The Worst Feeling Ever
by Armagnac
Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and, ye gods, a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/gore.
1. Toes, Dipping

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/sex/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

NOTE: **This fic was previously rated T but has changed to an M rating due to upcoming content.** The focus of this fic is on character development and it does have an actual plot, so by definition it's not PWP. For anyone who has been reading this as a T-rated fic who wants to avoid most of the M-rated stuff, that will be possible, and I will give a clear warning when the transition occurs. Thank you to everyone who voted in my poll, and thanks to everyone reading now!

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_"Yes, all is in a man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom. It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of. Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most . . . . But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that I do nothing. Or perhaps it is that I chatter because I do nothing. I've learned to chatter this last month, lying for days together in my den thinking . . . of Jack the Giant-killer. Why am I going there now? Am I capable of that? Is that serious? It is not serious at all. It's simply a fantasy to amuse myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything."_

– excerpt from _Crime and Punishment_, Fyodor Dostoevsky

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 1: Toes, Dipping

The surface was cool, soothing almost. He was unconcerned. He knew no prison could hold him for long – his reach far exceeded his grasp. Confining him, even in so macabre a manner, would not prevent him from learning everything. Too many people underestimated him, underestimated in particular how much information he could absorb, how much punishment he could take – too many, except for a spare few, though he wondered if even they truly understood. Everything was worth learning, everything was worth knowing at whatever price, whether it was spoon-fed to him like cream on scones or clawed out, broken and bloody, to writhe in the spotlight of his gaze.

He would win – oh, he would win. He was sure of it. Patience, virtue or not, was the tool he would use to dig his way down to the truth. He would prevail where the others could not. Murder had merely provided the opportunity.

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His sneakers scuffed along the sidewalk, bright sunlight slanting across, throwing his shadow sharply to his left, a long-limbed accomplice, stretched taffy-thin, stalking alongside him. The meeting had gone well – too well for his liking. He did not suspect pulled strings or foul play, not on behalf of himself or the Dean of the Toronto University's Faculty of Medicine. He simply preferred a challenge.

Moving resolutely to the curb, he approached the waiting limousine, stepping past the gentleman holding the door and entering the vehicle without really looking at either one. The door was shut firmly behind him, and he perched on the seat, waiting. The driver's side door opened and shut, and the thrum of the engine started, the slight vibration soothing on his bare feet. He found himself breathing more deeply as the car edged away from the curb.

"I trust everything went well."

"Disgustingly so."

"Really. And what did you find disgusting?"

He rolled his eyes. "The man was falling all over himself to offer me a spot in the graduate program that had no doubt already been reserved for another student, all for the prospect of our paying full out-of-province tuition."

"I rather suspect that your test scores had a bit more to do with it."

"They played their role, yes, but his greed was palpable."

"Are you certain that he was not envisioning the boost to his school's reputation that would occur with the addition of a prodigy to the program?"

"Hm. You have a point. He is likely a status-monger as well."

The driver chuckled, his voice warm. "Must you take such a dim view of things?"

He narrowed his eyes, slumping a bit more. "I see what is there. There is no dimness to my vision."

"Indeed. Such wisdom – I can scarcely believe I'm speaking to a 16 year old."

"I will be 17 in just over two months' time, as you well know," he bit out, regretting it immediately as the driver chuckled again. Letting his gaze drift to the side window as they passed through the city, he hoped that his courses wouldn't distract from his true purpose in attending university here. A series of unpleasant discoveries had been made near the university's hospital, and there was enough of a pattern to suggest that an actual serial killer was at work, rather than a "med school prankster" as local news media seemed to have been suggesting. _Who knows_, he thought, _perhaps I can solve the case and get the equivalent of a medical degree while I am here_.

"How long do you expect it will take for them to confirm my living arrangements, Watari?"

"Not long, I'd wager. Are you certain that residing on campus is the best choice?"

"Yes. If I am to solve this case, I must immerse myself and observe directly."

"As you wish, L."

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

The room was small and spare, with bare wooden floors, minimal furnishings, and one window, all of which suited his needs well enough. Though he had sought "immersion," he had not wanted to go so far as to have a roommate, so his was one of the rare single rooms. He was lucky to have obtained it, a scant nine days after enrolling. There was a sink, a mini-fridge, a bureau, a closet, and a bed, and the bathroom wasn't too far down the hall. The outside view was not perfect, but it would suffice – he could see the hospital and two of the paths leading to it from the university through trees and streetlamps. Several of the bodies – or, more accurately, body parts – had been found along these paths. Eleven different body parts from eleven different people had been found so far in total, though the police had been unable to identify any of the remains. L had every intention of identifying all of the victims and catching the culprit. Anything less than that he would consider a complete failure.

"Dude . . . Is that all you brought?"

L tore his gaze from the window to regard a thin young man with a short scruffy beard standing in the doorway. Chiding himself silently for failing to shut the door, he stepped from his perch on the bare mattress and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I brought what I needed. Nothing more."

The other man glanced at L's single suitcase, still unopened, and the plastic department store bag that contained new bedsheets and towels. "Well, that's cool, I guess."

Despite knowing that he was supposed to respond in some fashion, L obstinately remained silent, staring at the man, willing him to leave. It did work sometimes, but this was not one of them.

"I'm just checking out who's moving in, since we've got some newbies. My name's Geoff. I live down the hall." He gestured vaguely to his left, but made no move to shake L's hand, to L's relief. "So . . . what's your name?"

L stared for several more seconds before relenting. "Ezekiel."

"Well, good to meet you, Zeke. See you around."

Geoff had already meandered out of the doorframe before L had the chance to correct him. _I suppose I have been called worse things than 'Zeke,'_ L thought, grimacing, _and if a monosyllable is the best he can manage_ . . .

L turned toward the bed, displeased at the prospect of having to put sheets on it himself. He knew that he would have to stick to the role he'd chosen for the duration of his stay, but the variation from his routine already rankled. _It cannot be much worse than being at the orphanage_, he thought; _these things will undoubtedly start to feel natural after some time here_. L sighed and shook the fitted sheet out of its clear plastic pouch, which slipped to the floor. He disliked spending time to prepare a bed that he would rarely use but recognized the importance of blending in with other students to appear at least somewhat normal. Pulling and tucking, he fit the sheet to the mattress one corner at a time, crouching low to tug the fourth one taut to drop over the edge, at which point he heard giggling behind him. Straightening with an annoyed huff, he turned around.

"Um, hi." One of two young women in the doorway greeted him with a shy smile while the other looked him up and down, one eyebrow locked in the upright position.

"What is it?" L started to consider closing, locking, and possibly boarding up his door.

"We're just saying hi, and –"

"Your pants were riding pretty low." The other woman interrupted, with a smirk to match her still-raised eyebrow.

"I fail to see how that's relevant."

"Relevant? No. Drafty, maybe." Her eyebrow finally came down, though the smirk remained as she tossed her blonde ponytail back over her shoulder.

"Danielle!" The first woman's hushed exclamation accompanied a light punch to the other's arm before she turned back to face L. "We're just trying to get to know everyone who's moving in here so we'll know who belongs and who doesn't." She pushed her cat-eye glasses up the bridge of her nose with a knuckle. "I don't think it's hit the national news yet, but they've been finding body parts not far from here, and well . . ."

"That is perfectly understandable." L put his hands in his pockets, trying to surreptitiously hike up his jeans. He noticed the two women blinking at him as if in confusion. "It makes sense to meet each resident in order to discern them from any potential interlopers. My name is Ezekiel Penn." L hoped that this information would suffice, as he did not want to rattle off the entirety of his newly minted and memorized background for this persona.

"Oh, cool name! Do you go by Zeke?" She brushed a long strand of her chestnut hair from her face.

"I prefer Ezekiel, actually."

"That figures." Danielle continued to smirk at him, to his annoyance.

"_Any_way . . ." The woman with the glasses glared briefly at her friend. "My name's Janine Noh, and this is my roommate, Danielle Thompson. We live on the girl's side of this floor – well, obviously, I guess."

"Hm. Segregated. Interesting."

Danielle laughed. "Oh, you're gonna be fun. I was actually just complaining about how _not_ co-ed this co-ed dorm feels."

"It'd be different if they had individual bathrooms!" Janine frowned, another strand of hair swinging down, an errant parenthesis. "There's no way I'd walk into a giant communal bathroom to take a shower in front of a bunch of guys."

"You say that like it's not going to happen anyway." Danielle turned her smirk on Janine.

"Ugh – that's not even funny." Janine tucked her hair behind an ear.

"If it is any consolation, I have no intention of using anything other than the bathroom designated for males." L wondered why they weren't leaving.

"See Janine? We're perfectly safe from Ezekiel. One down, 61 to go."

"It remains to be seen if I am safe from you," L muttered, lids lowering.

Another throaty laugh from Danielle. "You're hilarious." She placed one hand on her hip. "How old are you, anyway? You look like a high school kid."

"I am 19," L said grudgingly.

"Huh. So you're a sophomore then – just a year behind us." Danielle was nodding.

"No. I am in the graduate program."

"At 19? Holy crap!"

"I test well." L's tone was dry.

She shook her head as if to clear it, shooting a look at Janine. "Alright, well, we've got to keep moving if we're gonna meet everyone. Catch you later!"

"It was nice to meet you," Janine said, tentatively raising her hand in a wave as they drifted away from the door.

L considered finally shutting the door but opted to leave it open. _If this method of introduction is a common practice, I am likely to meet more students by remaining here_, L thought. _It would be best to get that over with_. Despite his resolution, however, L decided that he would not bend over with his back to the door again as he continued to make his bed.

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Moonlight reflected dully on the surface of his new desk, which had been delivered just before sunset, two days after he'd moved in. The large box containing the desk had also enclosed his computer, which looked like a normal PC but was considerably different and more advanced inside, having been made to his specifications by Watari himself. There were also some special buttons hidden on the underside of the keyboard – one to access L's remote computer, one to send an untraceable automated message from L to local police and the ICPO, one to upload all data to the remote computer and erase this one, and one to send a distress call to Watari. He hoped that it would be enough.

L had concluded that Watari would need to stay elsewhere rather than try to infiltrate the university's faculty or staff. "It would be better if we did not both have to contend with such interpersonal entanglements," L had told him, and Watari had reluctantly agreed, with the caveat that he would keep an eye on L from afar. After so much time under a certain kind of scrutiny, L did not mind that his own room had cameras and bugs, particularly if it helped keep him safer and saved him the trouble of explaining his situation if Watari could see it directly. As his computer finished booting up, L entered a password and pulled up a program. _Watari's been busy_, he thought, scrolling through images fed by several cameras now arrayed around the university and hospital grounds. _We're bound to catch something useful, I think_.

Watari had objected to his strategy of not declaring publicly that L was on the case, just as he had objected to L not sending a proxy to investigate in his place. L had reasoned that a student would be privy to more unofficial information regarding on-campus activity than a faculty member and that he did not know any college-age proxies who would be as capable of making real-time assessments as himself. In retrospect, L supposed that he should have matriculated as an undergraduate in order to align himself most effectively with the student body, but given that the murders were occurring within the immediate environs of the graduate school and the hospital, he knew that he would need to have a reason for remaining in the vicinity of those places. As to his lack of a declaration to the media and law enforcement, L had chosen to wait for two reasons: 1. he wanted to gather more information first, and 2. he did not want his announcement to coincide with his arrival on campus. In his estimation, two weeks would be enough time to gain insights before contacting authorities.

The video feeds he was viewing, one camera angle at a time, were not being saved on his computer – that, among other things, was what the remote computer was for – but he could save a still image from the active feed by pressing Enter if he saw something worth preserving. L was suddenly glad to have such a feature as he changed feeds to see someone crossing a path and shaking an object out of a bag onto the grass. Eyes wide, L pressed Enter twice and paused, waiting to see if the person would turn to face the camera. As the person crumpled the bag and glanced around, L pressed Enter twice more. _Not quite a full profile_, he thought, _but better than nothing_. The person was already dashing between trees, avoiding the stone-lined paths. L scrolled through feed after feed but did not see the person again.

Going back to the original feed, he squinted, trying to determine what the dropped object could be, but it had fallen into an area between the pools of light spilling from streetlamps along the pathway. Every mote of his being was crying out for him to go there at once and investigate the object firsthand, but he knew that he had to refrain from being so impulsive. Drawing attention to himself would be bad enough, but since the murderer clearly wanted the parts to be found, it seemed likely that he would have a scenario in mind for their discovery. L did not want to interfere with the murderer's modus operandi because that would ultimately compromise the evidence. Physical evidence was absolutely critical. To L's mind, a lifetime's worth of conjecture was not worth a single piece of solid proof. So L waited, and watched, the moon slipping away across the dark sky as he hunched at the foot of his bed in anticipation of the object's discovery.

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Author's Note: This is chapter one of a probably medium-sized prequel fic centered around L. I will not be jumping PoVs very often, sticking to 3rd person limited with L for most of it, with possibly two or three other PoVs on occasion. I apologize in advance for the OCs, because there will be a bunch, but none of them are Mary Sues/Gary Stus, and hopefully none of them will make you want to stab me.

Translations of fiction, whether they be novels or poems or manga or movies or anime, can be very tricky, as different languages excel at different things. With anime specifically, though many people prefer subs to dubs, both are translations and they each leave things out or change them, whether due to space or pacing. Why mention this? Well, there is a line in the Death Note anime that inspired me to write this fic, but the exact phrasing only appears in the English dubbed version – the subs and the translated manga have it slightly different, slightly less . . . evocative. Though part of the line appears as my title for this, it is the implication and the context in which the line appears that formed my ideas. This fic could be considered connected to my longer fic, Turn of the 8th Day, though it is not necessary to read it to understand this one. Knowledge of the entire Death Note series (or at least the first half) as well as Another Note will help, though. ^_^

Thanks for reading!


	2. Wading In

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for violence/language.

* * *

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 2: Wading In

Had Watari not sent along the textbooks necessary for his courses, L would likely have gone without them. Absent a bookcase, he had simply piled them on the floor next to his desk. He longed to call Watari for another update, but he chose to leave his cellphone where he'd stashed it in an improvised pouch attached to the underside of his bed. He needed to remain as self-reliant as possible, and he wanted to keep his cellphone a secret, since to his surprise most of the students he'd encountered thus far didn't seem to have them. To a certain extent, L was finding the blending in process to be irksome, but he told himself that it was necessary, and it at least provided some challenge to him, unlike his classes so far. _Granted, it has only been ten days_, L thought; _perhaps the difficulty will increase to a more interesting level_.

The object he'd watched being shaken out of a bag on the evening after he'd moved in had been found by a groundskeeper shortly after dawn. It was an arm, this time, no hand attached, just wrist to elbow, cleanly cut rather than raggedly torn. The man in the jumpsuit with a bag and stick for picking up refuse had seemed more resigned and irritated than upset, as though the inconvenience of having to report the discovery somehow outweighed the fact that someone had probably lost their life, or at the very least their arm. Many people, including some on the police force, still regarded the dropping of body parts as an ongoing ghoulish prank, and unsubstantiated media reports hinting that med students might be to blame had riled tempers on campus. L could understand why. Taking the time and effort to obtain an education with the express purpose of improving, maintaining, and extending human life only to be accused of foreshortening and even desecrating it was an incredible insult. L therefore had no trouble expressing genuine disgust at such a notion among fellow students, though he could not rule out the possibility that the murderer might be among them.

_If someone chose to enroll as a medical student for reasons other than becoming a doctor, or somehow came to resent an education they felt compelled to take, such a person could theoretically have developed a reason to commit murder, however unjustified_, L thought, _though certainly not for the sake of a mere prank_. _The people who believe that a student is behind this must think that the body parts are being taken from "nameless" corpses used in dissection classes, but any medical student or faculty member knows that every cadaver used is catalogued and accounted for, including all of their parts, listing their names, blood types, and multiple details that could be used to trace any part back to its source_.

L's eyes narrowed, watching the ground as he walked, the bookbag he'd slung over his shoulder thudding against the small of his back with each step. More disquieting than the body parts that were being found was the fact that the remainder of the bodies had _not_ been found. It was possible that the bodies had been destroyed. It was even possible that some victims might still be alive, minus an arm or a leg or a kidney. The first victim could not be alive, given that no one could survive without a head, faceless or otherwise. L felt sure that whatever state the victims were in, they would be nearby, and he found it maddening to have to wait for more clues instead of simply searching every plausible location immediately, but he could not afford to disrupt the murderer's pattern yet. He needed to know not just how and who but _why_.

L was still thinking about the trajectory of the person he'd seen dropping the arm when he failed to notice his own trajectory.

"Umph!"

Brought up short and rubbing his chin, L looked up to meet the dark eyes of a young man with long dreads and chocolate skin who was regarding him with apparent disbelief. "I . . . apologize." L blinked. "I must have been . . ."

". . . thinking about the genetics homework?"

"Ah. Yes. You are in Professor Batista's class as well."

"Yeah. I keep sitting in back, hoping he won't call on me, but he always does."

"I find that sitting up front and watching attentively dissuades most professors from speaking to me. They seem to assume that they need to work harder for the attention of those in the back and only call on those up front as a last resort."

"Ha! I'll have to remember that." He grinned at L. "I'm Guy – that's short for Guillaume." Guy extended his hand.

"I am Ezekiel," L said, shaking his hand. "That is not short for anything."

"Hey man, you're funny!"

"Hm. Apparently."

"I was just telling these guys about a party I'm having this weekend – you should swing by!"

L swiveled his head to take in the three other men standing just off the walk. There were two he didn't know, but he saw that Geoff from his dorm was among them and nodded at him in recognition. "What are you commemorating?"

The group chuckled, looking at each other. "Just the end of second week, man," Guy said.

"That . . . hardly seems like an accomplishment."

"Depends on the week." Guy clapped L on the shoulder, nearly knocking him sideways. "There doesn't really have to be a reason – a party is its own reason."

"Will there be cake?"

Roars of laughter from the two men L didn't know startled him, though he managed to keep still. He suspected that his displeasure showed on his face, however, when Guy drew him closer, speaking conspiratorially. "Don't mind them. There could be cake, yeah. There will definitely be beer, and I'll be working the grill. Here's the address." Guy jotted it down on the back of a green flyer he'd been holding and handed it to L.

"Thank you." L accepted the paper, doubting that he would attend but valuing all information as useful. He was about to walk away when he flipped the flyer over. "Someone is missing a cat?"

"Yeah – this sweet chiquita who lives on the other side of the hospital said her cat ran off two weeks ago. I didn't have the heart to tell her it's probably been hit by a car by now." Guy shook his head sadly.

"That is a likely scenario, though it is possible that it is still alive. Cats can easily survive via predation, assuming that it has found an alleyway populated with sufficient vermin to sustain it."

"You . . . might not want to tell her that, man."

"I would think she'd be happy at the prospect of her pet's survival, but you are right – it is too soon to make an assessment regarding its fate. If I see the cat, I will contact her." L began to move off, nodding once at Guy. "Thank you again for the invitation."

As murmured conversation bloomed in his wake, L realized that he had not gotten the names of the other two men, but he knew he would recognize them if he saw them again. One had been tall, blocky, and pale with spiky blond hair and squinting blue eyes, and the other had been short, rounded, and light-brown-complected with dark hair in a bowl cut and a mole low on his left cheek. If he did not encounter them again, he could look them up in the student directory. _Unless they are graduate students_, L thought, suppressing a frown, _since the graduate listings do not include photographs_.

L contemplated going to the cafeteria but concluded that it was too soon for supper and headed back to his room, promising himself he wouldn't get so caught up in his observations and studies that he would miss mealtime again. The lobby vending machines were only refilled once a week, and he suspected that the other residents would be displeased with him if he depleted most of their contents before then.

* * *

_Left forearm, number twelve. Liver, number eleven. Right foot, number ten. Left kidney, number nine. Pelvic bone, number eight. Spine, number seven. Scrotum with testicles, number six. Right hand, number five. Heart, number four. Left thigh, number three. Breasts, number two. Faceless cranium, number one. They will look for patterns. They will think they understand my edict so grand, they will think they see the pieces of a puzzle, but only when all of the pieces are out on the board will they be able to see – they will see what I have given them. Every second they waste on their theories now is a gift to me. So lovely, truly, to be given gifts. But the sacred number has not yet been reached. Patience, my eager pets, patience_.

_So much more to do. I can scarcely stand the beauty of it, trembling next to shining silver and glass. Even as these dogs converge to sniff around, the puppy and the hound, my work is no more quickly found. Oh, they will see what is yet to be. They will see, they will see – and smell, and taste, and feel, and hear, and eventually . . . they will know. If I am blessed, I will see them as the knowing takes them in its teeth. We will __**all **__know – at the end of things, we __**will **__all know_.

_If only the haughty poodle had joined us . . . but no matter. I must disassemble to assemble, split into parts to become whole. We will all be assembled soon. From the soup of supposition springs the nourishment of epiphany! Hmm . . . it needs more of something _. . .

_Beauty, steaming and red under diffusing lamplight – it calls to us, and we shall all warm our hands in it_.

* * *

The blaring noise seemed wrong on a Sunday night for reasons he could not place, but he walked toward the sound anyway. He was considering obtaining a TV for his room after all, but this arrangement would suffice for now, and it afforded him the opportunity to observe the other residents as well. He moved to the back wall, crossing in front of only a few people as he took his place, perched on a small table wedged between seats directly opposite the dorm TV. The room was crowded, with four rows of people sitting on the floor and every other seat in the worn chairs and couches arrayed around the room occupied as well. They were all waiting for one thing.

"And next on the Toronto local news, another development in the bizarre Missing Parts case . . ."

L disliked the case name with which the media had tagged these events, but then he rarely liked the names given by others to the cases he worked since they so often missed the point entirely. He heard someone mutter "Shouldn't it be the 'Found Parts' case?" and kept his smirk to himself, focusing on what the newswoman was saying – which, sadly, was nothing much. No new parts had been dropped since the arm, and it had been almost two weeks since then, though the culprit did not seem to keep a regular schedule. Intervals between drops had varied from and day and a half to thirteen days. L had already applied algorithmic analysis to try and discern a pattern for the intervals but had come up empty so far. _Either there is a longer sequence in use than would reveal itself within twelve instances_, L thought, _or this murderer is being deliberately random – which could be considered its own pattern_.

". . . Despite this lack of progress, it seems there is new hope for catching this criminal. We go live now to the Chief of Police."

Everyone, including L, leaned forward as the screen changed from the news studio to the Police Chief standing behind a microphone-laden podium. ". . . and I speak for the entire department when I say that it is about time that people took these crimes with the seriousness they deserve. Just thirty minutes ago, I received a call from an important ally, someone who has pledged to help us solve this case, and he asked me to play this recording for you now."

L's fingers dug into his knees, and everyone in the room seemed to hold their breaths as the Chief fumbled with a tape recorder and finally pressed 'Play.'

"Greetings and salutations to you all! I wanted to reassure you that I've been working on this case for a few weeks now, and it looks very likely that I'll be solving it quite soon. And who am I? Well, I have gone by different names in my time, but I expect you'll all know me by the name Eraldo Coil. This murderer thinks he's quite the clever one, but he's been sloppier than he realizes. In fact, let me address him for a moment. Are you listening, little man? Do you really expect us to assemble your Frankenstein's puzzle for you like meek bleating sheep? I would personally like to thank you for the mistakes you made on two and five – _very_ helpful, those were. You may anticipate our approach at any moment. I imagine you're proud of finally publicly receiving the designation of 'murderer,' though I think a better term for you is 'butcher,' and you're an amateur at best. If only you'd tested well enough to actually get _into_ medical school. We'll chat about all this soon enough, of course, so sit tight. Getting back to the police and the citizens of Toronto, I thank you all for the opportunity to bring this case to a close and restore peace to this wonderful city. Adieu!"

The screen switched from the Chief holding a hand up for quiet back to the newswoman, to whom L would not have been listening even if the room hadn't erupted in conversation immediately following Coil's announcement. With measured movements, L stepped down off the table and threaded his way out of the room. Residents' voices welled around him and followed him as he made his way alone to the elevator.

"Who the hell is Eraldo Coil?"

"Dude, seriously? Where have _you_ been – he's only the best detective in the world."

"No way – Deneuve's better. Coil couldn't even crack that Hong Kong case back in . . ."

"What about L? He solved that case in Brazil and made Coil look like a total idiot."

"L's a newbie – no way he's as good as Coil."

"Yeah, Coil's like a modern Sherlock Holmes. Totally epic detecting skills, for sure."

"I dunno, he sounded like a douche."

"Hey, Coil said he went by different names sometimes – maybe L is just an alias of his anyway."

"Whatever. As long as they catch this asshole freak who's littering body parts everywhere."

"Ugh, I know. It's so –"

_Awful_. The elevator doors thudded to a merciful close, shutting out the voices, and the car rose with a faint whir. L stared straight ahead, keeping his mind as clear as possible, waiting for his floor. At last, the chime rang out, and L stepped into the hall of floor six and turned to walk resolutely to his door. He twisted the key in the lock and stepped in, pivoting as he closed the door to relock it. He walked to the centerpoint between wall and door and paused, breath rushing in and out of his flared nostrils.

"Guh!" L leapt and spun in mid-air, slamming his back against the outside wall, rattling the closed window. His fists clenched and quaking, he felt his face radiating heat and knew he could not afford to make any more noise, but he was not yet ready to make the call. Feeling the gaze of the cameras from the corners as though they were pinpricks piercing his skin, he struggled for calm, regulating his breathing as he'd so recently been taught, clenching and releasing each muscle in turn until he could resume his usual perch on the bed. After breathing silently with his eyes closed for a full minute, he finally felt ready and reached under his bed.

Three button code, one ring, a faint click . . . "How the fuck did that bastard beat us to it?"

"_Language_."

L sighed. "I apologize, _grandfather_." He fought to keep his mouth from twisting in frustration. "Was there a leak of some kind? Or did he find his way to this on his own?"

"There has been no leak, I assure you. It is possible he found this case entirely on his own . . ." Watari's voice trailed off.

"Yes? What is it?"

"He may have deduced that this is a case that would interest you and sought it out for that reason."

"I see. For revenge, I suppose."

"That may be overstating it somewhat. He may be seeking to restore his own credibility."

"And what better way than by besmirching mine."

"You are taking this too personally."

"That _is_ the appropriate way to take something that is intended to be personal."

"Perhaps. But it will suit you better to depersonalize it. Dispassionate analysis is rather your forte', and as you may recall, it is why you succeeded where he failed last year."

"I am aware of that," L bit out.

"Excellent. What approach would you like to take at this point?"

L thought for a moment, warping his bottom lip with his thumb. "We will not announce."

"Are you certain?"

"I am. He will be expecting it, and I wish to disappoint him. Also, it may be to our advantage to allow Coil to take the lead."

"Because the murderer will focus on eluding Coil rather than you?"

"Correct."

"Fair enough. Is there anything else?"

"Have you analyzed the face from the video?"

Watari seemed to sigh through the receiver. "I have employed some help on that – the image was terribly dim even on our cameras, and we barely got a profile. The features do indicate a male, as an adam's apple was just visible, but his hood was up, so there's no telling what sort of hair he's got, and –"

"Hair can be easily changed. Facial recognition is more important."

"Indeed it is. We are doing our best to reconstruct the rest of the face based on what we can see, but there is nothing distinctive about the composite yet. We've already compared it to photos of students, faculty, and staff, as well as the entire ICPO criminal database, but there are no matches. If we can clean up the image further, or get an additional image, perhaps we'll have more luck, but –"

"How many have you involved?"

"Aside from the two boys? Only Roger and myself. No one else even knows where you are, as per our usual arrangement."

"Alright."

"Then I will speak to you at our allotted –"

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"I would also like a care package. With cake."

Watari chuckled. "So soon?"

"Considering this setback, I think the timing is appropriate."

"Very well. I'll send it along via the post tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

L turned off his cellphone, tucking it back into its hidden pouch and feeling it click into the charger there. Sighing, he brought himself back up into his crouch and faced the computer. _I should not have delayed my announcement_, he thought; _my reasoning was sound, but I have missed an opportunity_. _I must not let that happen again_. He knew that Watari was right, that he shouldn't let Coil's grandstanding bother him, but that was easier said than done. L blamed hormones. He'd been much calmer as a child, but his reserve had become harder and harder to maintain from age fourteen on. Learning judo and tai chi had helped, showing him alternate means by which to expend energy while retaining control, but they did not stop the anger from rising in the first place.

He was still trying to master the meditation techniques Watari had been teaching him over the summer. L thought it was possible that some of his initial difficulty learning them had been the circumstances under which they had been introduced, considering that his behavior just prior had been characterized as a "tantrum," but L knew that boredom had something to do with it as well. To actually clear his mind of all thought – he hated it. L never felt more alive than when he was thinking, especially when he was able to draw conclusions, and how could he reach any conclusions if his mind was empty of thought? Though he struggled with the counterintuitive nature of it, L fully intended to master the technique. He recognized that, when he was able to do it, meditation did calm him down, but also, he disliked the prospect of failing to learn something. Backing down from a challenge, especially an intellectual one, was not an option he would allow himself.

Attending last night's party had been another challenge from which he had not backed down, but L felt it had been a complete waste of time. Guy and Geoff had both been amiable enough, and it had given L the opportunity to observe a college "keg party" in person, as dubious in value as that might be. He did discover the names of the two men he'd met when Guy had invited him – the blond was Knut, and the brunet was Ahmed. The only other people L saw there whom he recognized were Janine and Danielle, though the extent of their interaction with him had been Janine waving at him from across a room of rowdy strangers and his wanly waving back. After an hour and a half of weaving among the guests and eating the only "cake" available – a stack of Jos. Louis snack cakes piled on a table – L left Guy's off-campus apartment shortly before midnight to walk back to his room, taking shortcuts through alleys in the hope of spotting the missing cat. No luck there, either.

_There is no such thing as luck_, L chided himself, _only a cascading confluence of consequential circumstances which we choose to interpret as being in our favor or not_. L considered trying to meditate again and even contemplated doing some homework to relax, but he ultimately decided to watch the camera feeds in the hope of catching the Butcher at work again. Gritting his teeth as he realized he was using Coil's name for the culprit in his head, he leaned forward from his perch to type in his password and begin his watch, even more determined to catch the murderer – before Coil could, if possible.

* * *

Author's Note: Coil is a smug-ass mofo, isn't he? Though I suppose any seasoned detective would take umbrage at some young upstart trying to take the title of world's best detective away from him. As you may have guessed, this all takes place while L is still in the process of securing his rank – at this point, both Coil and Deneuve are fully operational and, being older, their reputations are more established. There may be some other canon characters making an appearance eventually – perhaps one or two Wammy House residents. . .

Just for the record, I know that there is a University of Toronto, but I have purposely named the school in this fic Toronto University to distinguish it from the factual one. Basically, my university is made up, sort of like how there's no To-Oh University in Tokyo, except I only just shaved the numbers off a bit with the name. I have been to Toronto (it's a cool city, and I'd love to go back at some point), but I've never been to the actual University, and I knew that no amount of Google Earth/Wikipedia help was going to help me get every fact right. Good thing Death Note itself has its own separate "reality," eh? ^_^

Another fun thing to keep in mind is that, timeline-wise, this is all happening in the 90's – 1996, if we're going by the manga, though I'm trying to keep things non-specific enough so that it could fit either manga or anime. Cellphones were certainly common then, but not nearly as ubiquitous (or as multi-functional) as they are now. And if anyone's curious, "Jos. Louis snack cakes" are a Canadian version of, well, sort of a cross between a Ding-Dong and an Oreo Cakester. Hmm, Canadian Ding-Dong would have sounded funnier, damn my need to explain.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Splashback

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for violence/language.

* * *

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 3: Splashback

"Man, nothing like a four hour Wednesday lab to drag the day down."

L looked over, surprised to note that Geoff was engaging him in conversation as they exited the MedSci building. Resolving to behave as the student he was meant to be, L nodded, formulating a response. "I found it strange that Professor Lachland spent so much time going over the chapter contents. The redundancy was unnecessary and left us with less time in which to accomplish anything."

Geoff seemed to mull that over as they descended the steps. "Yeah, I guess. She was probably just trying to make sure we were all clear on the concepts before moving on to the next thing. Half of learning is repetition, right?"

"Mm. Not for me, actually."

Geoff glanced over as they walked. "One and done, huh? That's cool."

"Well, it's only 'one and done' as you say if I grasp the concept immediately. The concepts within the current chapter seem fairly straightforward, so I had assumed we would be proceeding on to practice right away."

"You know what they say when you assume . . ."

"I do not."

"Dude, seriously?" Geoff's eyes twinkled as they slipped toward L. "I learned that one in grade school."

"Ah. I was homeschooled."

"Oh. That explains some stuff."

L stared balefully at Geoff, but he wasn't looking back at him, seeming to gaze off in the distance. Dropping his eyes to his own shuffling feet, L continued along, wondering if socializing was really worth the effort. _Perhaps it will be less wasteful if I talk about something of interest_, L thought. "Have you noticed anything unusual lately?"

"Unusual." Geoff's brow furrowed slightly. "Not really. Well," his eyes met L's, "nothing too unusual anyway. You're worried about the serial killer guy, right?"

L nodded. "Yes. If we had a better idea of how he was doing things and why, we would more easily be able to determine which activities are safe."

"Sure, but if people knew that much, they'd have caught him by now."

"I suppose."

"Don't worry, dude – that detective guy is working with the police on it. We just have to stay frosty and stick together in the meantime."

"Mm. At a certain temperature, frost does stick together . . ." L turned to see Geoff chuckling as they paused at an intersection of pathways.

"Seriously, you crack me up."

Searching the other man's face, L did not detect any malice and forced a half-smile in response. "It is good to be of service."

"Oh, hey guys!"

"Hi," Geoff said, straightening up.

L turned, head tilting. "Hello Janine. I trust you are well?"

"I, heh, yeah, I am. How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you," L responded, deciding to add "and relieved to be done with lab for the day."

"Oh boy, I can't even _think_ what it's going to be like once I finish pre-med and start grad school – I'm already swamped, and we're not even to mid-terms yet! I still have two more classes today . . ."

"Are you staying safe?"

"Huh?" Janine blinked at L's question. "Oh – yeah, I'm careful. I stay on the paths and watch my surroundings."

"You should walk with someone whenever possible."

"It's still daylight – I'll be fine."

"We have no way of knowing whether increased atmospheric illumination has any dissuading effect on the murderer's behavior, actually."

"Oh. Well . . . that's creepy." Janine swallowed. "I really have to get to class, though, so I'll see you guys later." She walked quickly between them to follow the path they'd just traversed.

"Take care," L said at her retreating back.

"Bye." After a moment of watch her depart, Geoff turned back to L. "You know, you shouldn't worry her like that."

"It can do no harm to take precautions." L met Geoff's eye. "I do not want harm to come to her. She is too trusting."

"Maybe so, dude, but freaking her out is just gonna make her feel bad. You gotta, you know, let people deal with stuff their own way. Everyone's worried about the serial killer, whether they say so or not. We just have to let the police and whoever do their jobs. If we worried about everything, we'd never get anything done."

"Hm. If you say so." L was no longer interested in discussing the matter and started walking toward the dorm. He couldn't risk asking too many direct questions about the case without rousing suspicion, and it frustrated him.

"I'm gonna hit the cafeteria, Zeke – catch you later." Geoff took the path in the other direction.

"What did the cafeteria do to deserve corporal punishment?" L glanced over his shoulder, confident now that he was aware of the source of Geoff's continued amusement with him.

"Ha! Have you tried their casserole?" Geoff asked, walking backwards.

"Thankfully, no."

"Good call, dude." Geoff turned back around as they each continued in opposite directions.

* * *

With a sharp jerk, L's head lifted from his knees, and he blinked several times at the now blank computer screen and the grayish-pink light seeping over his windowsill. Rubbing his forehead where he knew two red knee-spots had formed, he cursed himself for falling asleep before re-entering his password and bringing up the video feeds. L rolled his neck, hearing it pop, and stretched one arm at a time over his head as he scrolled through each image. When he had nearly completed the cycle, he stopped and clicked back one. There was something tall and cylindrical sitting in a bird feeder. It appeared to be two-toned, the bottom half darker than the top.

L stared, bringing his nose inches from the screen. "Light on top of dark . . ." L's voice sounded strange in his own ears, faint and croaky. He stepped off the bed to stand, irritated anew at his lack of wakefulness, and bent forward to touch his toes, straightening up only to be rewarded with a ringing in his ears. Bringing his arms perpendicular to his body, elbows bent, he twisted once to the right and once to the left, the sounds of his vertebrae cracking like rocks thrown against a barn door. L kept his eyes on the screen. "A . . . container perhaps?" he murmured. All at once, it came to him, and he spun low, grabbing for his phone, punching a number in quickly.

"Oh my _god_," L said in a much higher pitch than normal, "I need to report something, like, _really_ gross. I was jogging by and there's, like, this big plastic container full of _blood_ just sitting on top of a bird bath, and – what?" He huffed into the phone. "No, this is _not_ a prank! It's right near the path to D'Arcy Hall, the one that cuts the corner of College Avenue and University Street. Huh? Oh, no no no no – I do _not_ have time to come down to the station and tell you all the same stuff again. It's, like, right _there!_ Ugh, whatever – nevermind, then." L terminated the call, knowing that the police would be unable to trace it and confident that they would assume a female college student had made the report. He estimated that the closest beat cop on duty would be sent to the location he'd specified and hoped that the evidence would be retrieved before anyone else arrived there. _It is unlikely that there will be any fingerprints to be found_, L thought, _but such possibilities cannot be ruled out_.

L perched back on his bed, ready to watch until the retrieval was completed, resigned to the likelihood that he would miss his first class. _Three weeks between drops this time – is this part of the murderer's plan, or is he being more cautious?_ L wondered. Sighing as he scratched his butt, he reached behind himself to pull at the remains of his care package, extracting the last toffee bar and gnawing on it, staring at the brightening scene on the monitor.

In the few years since he'd become a world-renowned detective, L had in fact conducted on-scene observation and reconnaissance several times, often but not always in disguise. He made a point of not drawing attention to himself, preferring to appear as a random bystander on the periphery of events. L was content for the public to believe that he was a reclusive detective with a veritable army of stealthy minions feeding him information. It made operating as he wished that much easier. Almost all of his on-scene appearances, however, had been simple one-offs. Arrive, observe, assess, depart. Showing up at a crime scene in disguise wasn't too hard to bear, but wearing one for a significant duration, one measured in weeks rather than hours, would have been impractical and uncomfortable. L could barely stand to wear shoes, let alone wigs or suits. Consequently, for this case, L had retained much of his natural look with the scarcest of modifications.

He wore sneakers when he had to – without socks. He possessed a coat in the event that he was still working the case when the weather turned cold. He had, at Watari's urging, brought with him a selection of shirts in different colors, though all of them were the same loose cotton knit. He'd brought a sufficient supply of his usual boxers, a mix of red and blue striped, along with five pairs of his beaten down and baggy jeans, though he noticed that Watari had slipped a black pair of a similar style in his suitcase as well. _I suppose those will be useful should I need to appear as a ninja from the waist down_, L had thought drily.

Toffee bar successfully consumed, L leaned forward, licking his lips, almost bouncing in anticipation. He was certain that he'd guessed right and that the container held blood – the Butcher's next 'part' left out to be found. L doubted that this was a prank or the work of a copycat. Wishing he could just run straight to the scene himself, he shook his head, fighting with his rising impatience and closing his eyes for just a moment. _Breathe in, hold, breathe out_ . . . As he re-opened his eyes, L saw something unexpected. It wasn't the fact that someone was finally approaching along the walk, it was who the person was. _Not a policeman – is that . . . Janine?_ L thought, mouth opening.

To his horror, she paused on the path directly opposite the bird bath and then stepped off toward it. "Don't touch it, don't touch it, please don't touch it . . ." L mumbled distractedly.

Three steps off the path, Janine tripped, falling forward, bookbag dropping to one side, one hand seeming to graze the container on her way down. "Damn it!" L scowled. He shook off his annoyance at the possible compromise of the evidence and continued to watch closely. Janine was pushing herself up off the ground to kneel and dragged the back of her wrist across her mouth. Though her back was to the camera and there was no sound, L thought that her movements – a clenching hunch to her torso, the jerky motion of her hands, held apart from her, the shaking – indicated that she might be screaming. _If that is the case, hopefully this will draw the attention of a police officer_, L thought, _rather than more students_. He watched her tip backwards and scrabble away from the birdbath face-up on all fours before turning, one hand still on the ground, to face the path.

L gasped. Janine was covered in blood, the bright red jumping out now that she was in direct sunlight. It was all over her, with a smear at her mouth where she had wiped. Dimly aware that part of his mind was cursing the disruption of the crime scene, he felt sympathy for her surge within him. Watching her mouth form words, it was as though he could hear her.

"Help me!"

Blinking, L glanced at his window. It was still closed, yet he could hear her voice, if faintly. L almost smiled. He now had a perfectly plausible to investigate the scene directly – he was answering a cry for help.

L clicked off the video feed and hopped off the bed, absently stuffing a paper towel in his pocket. Out of habit, he double-checked that his cellphone was in its pouch before leaving his room and locking it behind him.

The elevator ride down had seemed to take an impossibly long time, but finally free of it and the dorm itself, L moved briskly along the path. Hearing Janine's voice again, closer this time, L broke into a run, knowing he'd be able to justify his behavior as concern for a friend. It was still early, so he didn't see any other students in the immediate vicinity, but he knew that would change soon.

He rounded a bend and charged forward, considering the possibility that the Butcher had set up the scene of his crime as a kind of trap, intending for the person who discovered it to fall face first into blood. _Not possibility_, L thought, _likelihood – the pooling of blood on the ground would have been deliberate, marking the discoverer as a victim_. L's eyes went wide. _Those who discover the body parts are intended to be victims as well! I will have to determine if there is anything else linking the discoverer-victims together, and if there is any connection to the primary victims_.

Finally approaching his destination, he saw with a mix of gratification and annoyance that a police officer was now present, standing near Janine as he spoke into a walkie-talkie. L reminded himself to simply play his role and hastened to Janine's side.

"Janine? Are you injured?" L dropped to a crouch next to her, taking in as much of the scene in his peripheral vision as possible.

"I . . . I don't know . . ." Janine was breathing heavily, hands out as though she couldn't stand the thought of them at the end of her arms, and L saw that they were coated in blood as well. "I think I bumped my chin, and my knee kind of hurts, but . . ." her breath caught, "this . . . isn't mine."

L frowned, not needing to manufacture his concern but resolving to remain focused. "Here, let me help . . ." He extracted the paper towel and began wiping at her mouth and dabbing around her eyes where her tears had mixed with the blood.

"Hey! Cut it out, buddy." The police officer glared down at the two of them. "We need all of that for evidence!"

Donning his best 'innocent' expression, L stared up at the officer. "There seems to be ample evidence here. Why would you object to the comforting of a victim?"

"Listen smart guy, you're compromising a crime scene – both of you."

L fought the urge to roll his eyes at the irony. "I was on my way to breakfast when I heard her voice –"

"He's my friend!" Janine's voice came out like a yelp. "He's not trying to mess up your 'evidence.' If I knew that . . . if I'd known what it was . . ." Janine trailed off, tremulous.

"Maulty, where are you?" the officer's walkie-talkie squawked.

The officer grimaced, looking away and lifting the device to his mouth. "Just east of the hospital, near College Avenue and University, next to the birdbath. A couple of students are here, over."

Deftly slipping the paper towel back into his pocket, L hesitantly reached out to touch Janine's shoulder. "You are likely in shock at the moment, but please listen carefully. The police will need to ask you several questions. Just answer them honestly, with no embellishment, even if they ask you the same questions repeatedly. They will need to take evidence from you as well. Do not be alarmed by this, and cooperate fully. Is there someone who can bring you fresh clothing?"

"I – yes. Danielle." Janine's eyes were glassy. "Tell her not to worry, and tell her I want my ugly shirt and dark sweatpants. Oh god . . ." Janine met L's eyes as she started to tear up again. "I'm gonna miss class! I did all this extra credit, and now I'm not even gonna be there . . ."

"I can speak to your Professor as well, if you like." L wasn't sure if it was necessary to tell her Professor anything, but he wanted Janine to remain as calm as she could under the circumstances.

"My log book is in my bag – maybe you could give it to her . . ."

"The bag and everything in it is evidence too," Officer Maulty snapped.

"What? No! All my work is in there – if I fail this class . . . oh god, oh god . . ." Janine began rocking back and forth.

"Janine." L squeezed her shoulder. "You will not fail your class. You _will_ get your belongings back once the police have examined them." L shot Maulty a look. "Correct?"

"Yeah," the officer conceded. "You'll get it back, _after_ we're done."

"Do you understand, Janine?" L stared at her as she stared at the ground.

"Yes."

Footsteps approached along the path, and from the pace and timbre, L estimated that these were additional police officers, three of them. "Stay calm and answer their questions. You will be fine, Janine."

"You'll talk to them?" She met L's eyes again. "Danielle and Professor Selig?"

"Yes, of course." L stood, helping Janine to her feet, and she grabbed his arm to steady herself.

"We're gonna have some questions for you too, buddy." Maulty looked at him appraisingly.

"You were here when I arrived. You observed everything I did and said directly." L tilted his head.

"You got here pretty quick."

"Not as quickly as you." L did not break his stare. "As I said, I was walking to get some breakfast when I heard Janine shout in the distance, so I ran to help her. I can certainly accompany you to the police station if you do not mind the additional paperwork."

"You little –"

"Maulty, forget it – he's just a kid. We can talk to him later if we need to."

Grimacing, Maulty deferred to the officer wearing a suit rather than a uniform and took out a notepad. "Fine. What's your name, kid?"

"Ezekiel Penn. I reside at Grosvenor Hall, in room 607."

Breaking eye contact with L to jot his name and room down, Maulty bit out "Got it. Now take off, kid. We'll be in touch."

L nodded at Janine and left without another word, turning back to retrace his steps past the other officers who barely spared him a glance. If he hurried, he might be able to make his first class of the day, but he had other obligations now, some of which centered around the evidence handily stashed in his pocket.

* * *

"What the – are you fucking shitting me?!"

"I . . . am most assuredly not 'shitting' you."

"Why the fuck do the police have her? And why does she need _clothes?_" Danielle's face was getting quite red.

"Please calm down and I will tell you." L was glad that he'd closed the door behind him, as it prevented her voice from carrying down the hallway, but wasn't sure if he liked being shut in a room with a madwoman. "She was walking to campus when she –"

"Holy fucking shit . . ." Danielle was suddenly advancing on him. "Is this from her?" She grabbed his arm. "Is this hers?!"

L looked down and saw the bloody handprint on his sleeve just above the elbow. "It is not her blood, but that is her handprint. She was –"

"What the fuck happened to her?!" Danielle gripped both of L's shoulders, her face uncomfortably close to his.

"If you let me finish speaking, I will _tell_ you!" Mildly embarrassed to have resorted to even a terse shout, L was relieved when Danielle let go of him and pulled back, arms crossing, her lips a thin line. "Janine discovered the most recent body part dropped by the murderer. She slipped and fell – she is uninjured," he hastened to cut her off before she spoke, "but her clothing was soiled and the police needed to question her and recover evidence. I have already spoken to Professor Selig on her behalf, as she asked, and I am now speaking to you, as she also asked. She said that she wanted you to bring her 'ugly shirt' and her 'dark sweatpants' – I trust you understand which items she meant." The tumble of words now stopped, L stared at her, unsure why he felt so exhausted.

After a long pause, Danielle spoke. "You fucking freak. How can you be so calm? Do you even care what just happened to her? She must be so upset . . ."

"Of course she's upset. I did my best to calm her down."

"I'm sure _that_ went well." Danielle snorted.

L narrowed his eyes. "Would you like to help her, or would you like to continue yelling at me for no reason?"

Danielle rolled her eyes, turning away toward a bureau. "I'd _like_ to do both."

"I'd be happy to bring the clothes to her myself, but I had thought she'd rather see a close friend than the 'freak' who lives down the hall." Head jerking, L tried to contain his surprise at himself – what he'd said fit his role well enough, but it had cut a bit close to the truth of how he felt.

"Of course I'll bring her the clothes, you –" Danielle stopped, meeting his eye. "Look, I know you're just trying to help. It's not your fault this happened to her." She sighed. "It's just . . . she's my best friend. I'm worried about her."

"I understand." L turned to leave.

"Hey, Ezekiel?"

"Yes?" L half-turned, hand on the doorknob.

"Thanks. For helping her." Danielle's tone was uncharacteristically meek.

"Not at all."

"Um . . . what was the part, by the way?"

L held her gaze, his grim expression matching hers. "Blood. It was blood."

For once, Danielle seemed to have nothing to say, her own blood draining from her face as L took the opportunity to depart, the hall suddenly seeming too quiet as he walked along the carpet. He didn't rush, though he knew he'd have to bag his shirt along with the paper towel so that the package would be ready for Watari's courier to pick up. _The police may be doing a fine job processing the evidence they've collected_, L thought, _but I am more confident in my own resources_.

* * *

Author's Note: The average adult human body contains about 5 liters of blood. If one, say, had a 10 liter capacity container, it'd be filled about halfway. Of course, there's no guarantee that the murderer here has used only one person's blood, and not all of it was inside the container . . . Yeah. Messy murderer is messy.

I figured since this chapter was ready, I'd go ahead and put it up. I'm trying to pace myself, because I don't want to have to go back and correct stuff, but also, once my typing catches up to my writing . . . there's gonna be a lag.

When I write Geoff, by the way, I'm sort of picturing Geoff from Ace of Cakes. Not that my character is really like him, other than his appearance and maybe tone of voice. I guess just the thought of L trying to interact with such a laid-back dude kind of amused me.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Pebble, Dropped

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/gore.

* * *

_And what of the dead? They lie without shoes_

_in the stone boats. They are more like stone_

_than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse_

_to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone_.

– excerpt from "The Truth the Dead Know", Anne Sexton

* * *

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 4: Pebble, Dropped

The evening air was cool as it drifted over the windowsill, but warm enough to be soothing and still redolent of cut grass. He fought the urge to begin pacing again, not wanting his footsteps to attract the attention of anyone else in the house. Tracing his jawline with a knuckle, he stared out into the darkness, eyes sharp for fireflies, wishing for the cold comfort of winter.

A sharp rap on the door was followed by it swinging wide and slamming shut. He regarded his visitor with waning patience. "Oh, nicely done. Intending on waking the entire house, are we?"

"They can get their beauty sleep some other time." The dark-haired visitor grinned. "If you're that bothered, I can just save you the trouble of looking at what I found."

"You'll bloody well show me if you want my help – in fact, you'll show me whether you want my help or not. I've not been causing diversions and waiting all evening not to see the fruits of our labors."

"Interesting choice of words, h—"

"Give me that." He yanked the sheaf of papers from the other boy's hand, stalking back to the open window with it.

"Hey!"

"Shut it. You're the one who wants to do this. I have absolutely every intention of being entirely prepared before we embark on our little adventure."

"Don't say it like you don't want to go. You're just as bored as I am."

"Bored? Yes. Just as bored? Not bloody possible." He thumbed through the pages. "This is everything?"

"Everything they've stolen from the police. Add this to what they've already shown us, and we've pretty much seen it all."

"Hmm." He continued to skim through the reports, glancing at the grisly photos, searching for something, some reason, some outward justification.

"We can solve it before he can." The other boy's voice was at his ear. "It'll prove we're better than he is, and then –"

"I could not possibly care less about competing with him, or you, or anyone else!" He found himself glaring into the other boy's wide-eyed, grinning face. "I have no interest whatsoever in securing bragging rights over the solution of a case. I'm all for stopping murders, I assure you, but this is _not_ a game to me!"

"Yeah, yeah, you've said that before, but you're the only one from here who thinks that way." The dark-haired boy took the papers back.

"That's what worries me."

"What _doesn't_ worry you?"

He tossed his sandy brown hair, brow furrowed. "I'm not the least bit worried that you'll run out of ways to annoy me, for example."

The other boy threw his head back and laughed. "What are friends for?"

Despite himself, he felt a grin slip onto his face. "You drive me quite insane, you know."

"If I'm driving, I guess you're riding shotgun, henh henh henh."

He met the boy's eye. "So, when shall we set this all in motion?"

"Soon. I already have the key I need. If you can start working on some other 'diversions' . . ."

"I've a few ideas on that. The trick will be avoiding unnecessary complexity."

"Don't dumb it down too much – we want them to catch on eventually, just not immediately."

"You don't say." Eyes half-lidded, he pointed at the door. "You'd best get back to your own room. I'm actually going to require some sleep tonight."

"Meh. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Careful what you wish for, you barmy git." His expression was still warm as he shooed the other boy toward the door. "Hide the papers where we discussed. And do try and learn some stealth while you're busy not sleeping. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Yeah, OK, OK. G'night, Ally-oop."

"Goodnight."

Shutting the door at last, Aleister turned to face his bed. He pushed from his mind the possibility that plans might be made without him as he re-crossed the room. _There's nothing for it_, he thought; _I've got to get some rest – I cannot simply go without as these lunatics seem able to_. Still faintly stunned at what he and Beyond intended to do, he pulled down the covers, hoping he could find some refuge inside them, if only for a few hours. He flicked off the lamp at his bedside and breathed in the night air, listening for crickets, feeling the movement of air as though Wammy House itself were breathing with him, or for him.

* * *

Warm, humid air enshrouded him, almost making him forget how far north of the equator he was. His footfalls thudded dully along, leading away from the now-closed cafeteria. L was glad he'd been able to get there in time – as much as he disliked accommodating schedules set by others, he felt that he was adapting well. Belly filled with pie, ice cream, and cake, he contentedly considered whether to jump further ahead in his coursework or get back to the case right away. It had been six days since Janine had found the container of blood, but he knew that Watari would not be contacting him with any results before tomorrow – which meant that working on the case would entail, at most, going over the information they'd gotten from the police files, thanks to his and Watari's hacking skills, examining the footage captured by the remote computer of the blood drop (which only showed a landscaping truck with no license plate trundling to a stop and then resuming motion, the bulk of the vehicle blocking the camera's view of the birdbath and the person who had approached it), staring at the screencaps of the hooded man yet again, and keeping vigil over the video feeds. L sighed. He was used to extended observation, and the often slow process of compiling evidence, but even he was getting bored of it. To his disappointment, L had already determined that there were no significant connections among the discoverer-victims, though he wondered if there was some other pattern he'd not yet discerned.

A rustling from the bushes beside him caught his attention. _87% likelihood that this is a squirrel rather than a person_, L thought, deciding to investigate anyway. He knew Coil had men working for him – according to Coil's reputation, he didn't like working with women – but no one had shown L the level of scrutiny befitting the elder detective or, really, befitting anything beyond the normal amount of curiosity. Bending slightly lower, he stepped off the path and peered in through the thicket of branches in the dimming daylight. He took another step closer, dropping fully into a crouch, and froze when he heard a distinct hiss.

After a moment, L made a repeated 'tsking' noise he'd once heard Roger make when coaxing a kitten out of the rain. Wondering blandly if he was about to be bitten by a rabid feline, L was surprised to see the cat nose out of the underbrush and pad toward him. It was a calico, just like the one from the flyer – in fact, as he looked more closely, the pattern appeared to be identical to the photo. Acknowledging to himself that he'd just found the missing cat, L reluctantly draped his hand closer to the ground, waiting to see if the cat would approach. He didn't mind cats – truth be told, he preferred their aloofness to the neediness of dogs – but he could see that this one was quite dirty. As it bumped its head against his knuckles, L noticed that something was in its mouth. Before he could decide what to do about that, it dropped the item and began to purr, licking his fingers.

L managed to remain calm, staring at the pale object on the dark ground while he scritched behind the cat's ears. His eyes darting, he scanned the area, but didn't see anyone approaching. In a smooth, sweeping motion, he scooped up the cat and grabbed the object, standing as the cat twisted in his arms to rub against his shirt. Grimacing, L hoped the cat wasn't infested with lice as he pocketed what was unmistakably the bone of a human finger. _It seems I'll be shipping Watari more evidence to process_, he thought. Walking in the direction of the home of the woman who had lost the cat, L contemplated the possibility that the bone might not have originated from a source on campus and that he might now be headed toward the lair of a murderer.

* * *

"Lucy? Oh my god, Lucy! You poor little sweetie – _look_ at you!"

"I . . ."

"Here, come to Mama." The woman in the gauzy purple blouse opened her arms, and L happily deposited the cat into them, flinching slightly when his arm grazed her bosom in the transfer, though she seemed not to notice. "Come in, come in," she said, "I can't believe you found her! Where was she?"

"She was hiding in some bushes not far from the campus cafeteria." L regarded his shirt with distaste as she closed the door behind him. If he recalled correctly, the woman's name on the flyer was Angelica, though he decided not to address her that way unless she asked him to do so.

"Poor little baby." She looked into the cat's eyes as it meowed at her, tapping her cheek gently with one paw. "And you are _filthy_, aren't you?"

"Yes . . ." L said, realizing belatedly that she was still addressing the cat.

"Oh dear, your shirt _is_ a mess. Let me get this one fed, and I'll start a load of laundry. It's the least I can –"

"That is quite alright," L interrupted. "I have laundry to do back at my room in any event. Of course, if you have a plastic bag . . ."

"Well, sure – is a kitchen trash bag OK?"

"Yes, that will do nicely." L watched as she entered the blue and yellow tiled kitchen, setting Lucy down on the worn wood flooring. She filled a bowl with dry cat food and set it in front of the mewling cat and then filled another bowl with water and set that down too. Turning to the cabinet under the sink, she opened it and extracted a white plastic bag.

"Here you g— oh."

L finished pulling his shirt over his head, careful to keep his face away from the dirt that was now ground into it and making sure the garment remained inside out. Recognizing that his behavior might be seen as odd, L opted to explain. "I am somewhat . . . germaphobic."

"Oh my." Angelica handed him the bag. "But . . . you picked her up anyway?" She looked L up and down as he shoved his shirt into the bag and cinched it closed.

"Yes. I could not be certain that she would follow me all the way here if I did not carry her." L actually calculated the odds of the cat running away immediately had he not carried it as being nearly 100%.

"Well, aren't you sweet! I feel terrible now."

"Why would you feel terrible? You have your pet back safely, as you had hoped, and –"

"Well, of course I'm happy about _that_," she interrupted with a wry smile, "but in the flyer, I promised a reward, and after my car battery died last week, I had to get a replacement, which completely shot my budget this month . . ." She shook her head.

"I do not expect a reward, so you need not worry about any form of recompense."

"Oh, I'm not going to _worry_ about it, but I can't just let you go off empty-handed." Angelica put one hand on her hip. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Wait right here!" She dashed out of the kitchen, long dark hair swinging, completely ignored by her pet as it crunched away.

_I could make a run for it_, L thought, practically burning with the need to leave – in part because he wanted to get the new evidence to Watari, but also because he really wanted to bathe. After a distant thud and some rustling, Angelica returned with something in her hand.

"Here – you can't just go running around half-naked." She thrust something soft into L's hands.

"It is quite warm out, actually."

"Don't be fooled. These Canadian nights can sneak up on you."

L held the t-shirt up, his thumbs and forefingers pinching its shoulders. "Who or what is 'Sloan'?"

"Ha! That settles it – you're definitely not from around here. Although there was a little something about your accent . . ." She trailed off, then seemed to realize he was staring at her. "Sloan is a band. I recommend them, in fact."

"I see," said L, not seeing. "I can get this back to you when –"

"Nope. It's yours now. It was my ex-boyfriend's, but he's long gone and it wouldn't fit him anymore anyway. And I don't wear white." Angelica raised an eyebrow. "It's perfectly clean, I promise."

"I . . . believe you." L gingerly pulled the shirt on, noting that it fit loosely, as was his preference. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now . . . I'm a pretty good cook. I know cafeterias can be a little . . . ugh." Angelica's bottom lip pulled down on one side. "What kind of food do you like? I can make you –"

"I like cake."

Angelica smiled. "Cake, huh? Well . . . what about brownies?"

"I like those as well."

"Tell you what, then," she turned, her smile becoming impish, "since I made an extra batch of brownies, I'll wrap some up for you, but if you'd like me to bake you a cake sometime, just call me a few days in advance, and I'll make you whatever flavor you like."

"That would be wonderful." L felt a smile touch his face. "I was unable to memorize your phone number, since it was smudged on the flyer, however, so could I simply request a cake for this coming Sunday? Vanilla with strawberries is my favorite, but any cake is good."

After a pause, both eyebrows raised, Angelica laughed. "Alrighty then." She finished bundling up the brownies and brought them to him. "Here you go. So . . . you memorized my address?"

"And your name. And Lucy's appearance. It was not difficult – I am good at remembering things."

"Well, that's handy." Her brown eyes fixed him with a mix of trepidation and amusement. "The flyer didn't say this, but my friends call me Gellie, so you can do the same."

"Thank you, Gellie. You may call me Zeke." L wasn't sure why he'd given her the nickname he loathed. He supposed it seemed equivalently casual to the name she'd given him. As he retreated back over the threshold with a wave and a half-smile in response to her gratitude and goodbyes, he rationalized that it was likely the name she would have settled on calling him anyway.

* * *

"Oh man – they got you too."

"What?" L's key was still in his door as he turned to regard Geoff, who in turn was regarding his newly acquired t-shirt.

"They have a pretty active street team, though, so I guess it's not too surprising." Geoff nodded sagely.

"Mm. I acquired this from an individual, not a roving squad of t-shirt dispensers." L twisted the knob. As he crossed the threshold, he noted with mild annoyance that Geoff was following him in, but kept his face blank. "My own shirt became soiled retrieving Gellie's cat, so she gave me this one."

Geoff's normally half-lidded eyes widened. "Whoa, you found Lucy? That's awesome." He leaned against the wall just inside the door. "She must really like you, too, if you're already calling her Gellie."

"I believe that she was simply grateful to have her pet returned to her." L was itching to assemble the package of evidence he needed to send to Watari, but did not want to appear suspicious. He placed the trash bag and the parcel of brownies on his bed and shoved his hands in his pockets, receiving an abrupt reminder of the finger bone he'd pocketed as it brushed his knuckles.

"I bet she was – she loves that cat. Did you get a hug out of it?"

"A . . . hug?" L's brow furrowed slightly. "No. She said she would make me a cake . . ."

Geoff laughed softly. "Man, what is it with you and your cake fetish?"

L's expression became a sullen scowl, and he fought to rein it back in. "I _like_ cake. Need there be a reason?"

"No, dude, it's cool. As things go, liking cake is pretty harmless." Geoff pushed off the wall. "By the way, would you mind being my lab partner next week? Martin already asked me, but I know he won't pull his weight."

"That is acceptable to me, yes."

"Cool. Catch you later." Geoff twisted the doorknob and the spoke over his shoulder. "Just so you know, if those are brownies Gellie gave you . . . don't overdo it. One at a time, and you'll be fine."

"I will take that under advisement."

Geoff nodded, passing the rest of the way through the door, the click of the latch as it closed filling L with relief. Being caught with a human bone would have been suspicious indeed, but L had been more worried that Geoff might have wanted some of his brownies.

Carefully extracting the finger bone from his pocket, he reached for a small plastic bag to contain it separately. L wanted to prevent any further compromise to the evidence, hoping for some kind of lead, something more substantive than what the police had acquired thus far. After a moment's thought, he decided to bag a small sample of the brownies and the plastic wrap that enclosed him, if for no other reason than to test whether the ingredients matched any substances pertaining to the case, and to have an example of Gellie's fingerprints, just to be sure. _It is highly unlikely that Gellie is the murderer_, L thought, _though it is possible she could have some connection to a victim_. L didn't want to risk missing anything. He was determined to finish packaging everything and call Watari for pick-up as soon as possible so that results would be forthcoming sooner rather than later. Eyeing the rest of the brownies as he worked, he knew he would damn well have as many as he liked.

* * *

Author's Note: Mwahaha – I've been looking forward to playing with A and B a bit. They're very Odd Couple, n'est-ce pas? ^_^ And L keeps getting himself into social interactions, despite his distaste for them, but at least it looks like he may get some cake out of it.

I should probably leave this possibility dangling, but I'll tell you anyway: Deneuve isn't in this. Perhaps I'll play with her some other time (yes, in my mind she's a she).

Thanks for reading!


	5. Ripples

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/gore.

* * *

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 5: Ripples

_Tick tock, tick tock – baker's dozen, soon to double! So many flavors, tripping on my tongue . . . The puppy's pawn wavers in the dark, and the hound can barely summon his own bark! The fools, the fools, following their rules. They think they know – they think they see – they dare to think they can find me! Oh, but they've both been found, thanks to the hound, whose brazen acts become confession, so soon they'll have, in quick succession, the next few links in my seraphic chain_.

_Such a shame – I only wish this bliss was just beginning, but oh, the game is too good now to begin anew. The touch, the scent, the sound, the sight, the so so sweet conflation of flesh, too precious to waste for even a taste. They sense only the science – they do not yet see the art!_ _Thirteen more strokes before they themselves take part_.

_The building up to what must be built, with more, much more, scarlet ink to be spilt. When the chain becomes a leash, a yoke, I wonder if he'll get the joke . _. ._ More, and more, and more again, until it is everything, everything, everything – and then everything stops. A perfect construction of defiant destruction, the organ crescendo unending until the metronome ticks us to sleep_.

* * *

L's week was not going well. After he had meticulously assembled his, thus far, second package of evidence to send to Watari and placed the call to have it picked up, he had perched on his bed as usual to view video feeds, snacking on brownies in the dark. He did remember bringing the package downstairs to hand to the courier before returning to his room. He had then resumed his vigil, and his snacking. It was only after he had finished his third brownie that he had noticed some unexpected sensations, at which point he had become very concerned that he might have been poisoned. The last thing he could recall doing that evening was shutting down his computer and sprinting down the hall to pound on Geoff's door.

He did not remember entering Geoff's room, expounding on his theory that Gellie might be a terrorist while pacing the floor, though apparently he had. He did not remember the long conversation in which Geoff explained what hash brownies were, why people would consume them, and how Gellie probably had meant him no harm, though it apparently had occurred. And he did not remember Geoff walking him back to his room as he confessed to having touched Gellie's breast – the first time he had done any such thing – and then giving Geoff the remaining few brownies to dispose of however he wished, though that was apparently what had happened. He did not think that Geoff's account of these events was false. He simply wished that it was.

L had eventually woken to discover that he had missed his Tuesday morning class for the second week in a row. Professor Rouchard was considerably less understanding when he'd spoken to her, admonishing him that such "antics" were not acceptable of a graduate student. He'd had to scramble to get to Professor Batista's class, chagrined to note that Guy had managed to snag L's usual seat at the front of the classroom. All day long, he'd felt out of sorts, as if a much smaller percentage of his brain was being used, and he had wondered if that was how most people functioned, shuddering to himself. To his added dismay, he'd been so exhausted after finishing supper that day that he'd gone right to bed afterwards, sleeping the whole night through, though he'd later consoled himself that it had at least been a dreamless sleep. He'd resumed his nightly vigils the next evening, but found them interrupted by inadvertent napping.

On his way to class on Friday, he had overheard students discussing the Butcher's latest drop, and he had cursed himself for not keeping proper watch, though the drop had occurred out of range of Watari's cameras. This time, the part had been a lung. For a change, it hadn't been a student or employee of the school or hospital who'd found it – some unfortunate woman pushing her baby in a stroller had spotted it, a bloody mess by the sidewalk near the hospital on Elizabeth Avenue. To L's annoyance, the students he'd overheard had seemed more concerned that the great Eraldo Coil hadn't made any follow-up announcements yet rather than the possibility that the Butcher might be escalating his activity to include a greater swath of the local population.

Now that it was Saturday and he had finished three of his papers, L was hopeful that he could get more work done on the case. Watari had emailed him the coded results of the testing that had been done on the blood drop evidence. Predictably, the blood itself hadn't matched any on record, but they at least had a sample to compare should it later be found elsewhere. According to the police records they'd hacked into, the blood in the container was different from that on the ground – O positive rather than O negative. Janine's bloody fingerprints from his shirt, interestingly, had brought up a reference to a sealed juvenile record. He looked forward to receiving a copy of the file itself, as promised by Watari, since no sealed file was truly off-limits to L, whether he was working directly with the police or not.

There was a tentative knock at his door, and L cringed. He was not in the mood to socialize, regretting the amount of time he'd already lost to the brownie incident, and considered ignoring it completely. As the knock came again, he decided it was already becoming too distracting to ignore completely, so he closed down his computer programs and stepped off the bed to answer the door.

"Yes?"

"Hi Ezekiel." Janine blinked up at him, one hand still raised as if ready to knock again. "I . . . just wanted to know if you wanted to maybe sit out with us. It's a beautiful day, and we've got a whole bunch of food, so we were going to go have a picnic on the quad – there's enough room on the blanket for –"

"I have an inordinate amount of work to finish." L cut her off, his tone flat. "I cannot afford to take a break now."

"Oh, I . . ."

"Told ya." Danielle's voice carried from the hallway. "Ezekiel's allergic to fun."

Janine sighed, hair swinging forward to frame her face as she stared at her toes. "It's OK – I understand. I just thought, well, everyone needs to eat, and I wanted to thank you for being there for me when I found . . . when I found the . . ."

"I was happy to help, and you have already thanked me." L tilted his head.

"Yeah, OK. See you." Janine turned on a heel and walked quickly down the hall toward the kitchen.

As L was swinging the door shut, he felt it meet resistance and turned to regard Danielle, who pushed it back open, glaring at him. "What the fuck is your problem?" she hissed.

"There is a belligerent blonde preventing me from closing my door." L kept his face blank.

Danielle huffed. "All you had to do was give her a little of your time – chill out, have some food, listen for awhile. That's it. She's been trying to be nice to you since you got here, and you've been a total jerk. I can't even tell if you're doing it on purpose. If you hadn't helped her out that day . . ." Danielle swallowed, blinking, "I wouldn't even be telling you any of this. But you made it seem like you actually cared about her, so here's the deal: either humor her by having lunch with us, or be consistent and avoid her completely, but _stop_ jerking her around!"

"I am not jerking anything."

A moment of silence passed before laughter burst from Danielle's mouth. "Are you for real?"

L's mouth twisted as he glanced away, recalling the colloquialism he'd inadvertently referenced. "I am real enough," he ground out.

"Just make up your damn mind." Danielle removed her hand from the door, shaking her head, her face caught somewhere between a grin and a glare.

Rather loudly, L's stomach spoke for him, and he felt his cheeks flush as Danielle's eyebrow rose to its customary spot. L swallowed. "Perhaps . . . I will join you for a short time."

"Awesome. Don't make me regret it." Danielle walked away, leaving L to wonder why she would regret something he was already regretting in advance.

With a cursory glance at the state of his room, L pocketed his keys and exited, not even bothering with his sneakers. _If I can gain Janine's full confidence_, he thought, _she may be willing to share information regarding her criminal experience that is not in the file, which will help me determine if she is indeed connected to the Butcher_.

* * *

He'd managed to get out of playing Frisbee, but L was still held hostage to the social outing to which he'd agreed, and he perched on the edge of the blanket as if it was a cliff from which he longed to jump. To his surprise, Janine had brought along plenty of sweets, which he had happily devoured. She was certainly far less demanding than Danielle, who was now laughing in the distance, catching a thin disk of plastic and flipping it back to the boys playing with her on the grass. L wished he had already received Janine's sealed file to review, but consoled himself with the possibility of getting some details directly from her in the meantime. He knew that he would have to be subtle about it. Turning in place so that he was facing her again, pressing his heels into the corner of the blanket, he looked up and saw that she was staring at him.

"Um . . ."

"Yes, Janine?"

"I wasn't sure whether to tell you this or not, but . . ." Janine shifted from one hip to the other, her bent legs tucked to one side, propping herself up with one hand. A spare breeze caught her hair, sending it lazily sideways like a sienna flag. "You, um . . . you sit in that sort of defensive position with your knees up like you're trying to hide or something, but you don't keep your knees together, so . . . you're basically making everyone look at your crotch." The last part of her sentence ran together in a rapid flow as she looked away, cheeks pinking.

"I . . ." L looked down at himself and then back up at Janine as she intently watched the others playing. "I had not noticed that, but I do not think that I am making anyone do anything. Sitting in this manner increases my brain activity." Receiving no response, L wondered if Janine was still listening. "Have people been looking at my crotch?"

Janine's eyes darted to his and away again, gazing across the grass. "Uh yeah, I've seen _some_ people look. I just . . . I thought I should tell you, in case that wasn't what you wanted to happen."

"Hm. I would not expect that to have an adverse effect on me, unless people viewing my crotch became offended to the point where they might do me harm. I have not noticed any extreme negative reactions to my presence, however, so I estimate that there is a less than 6% chance of danger to my person as a result of my sitting position." L saw a slight furrow in Janine's brow. "Is my crotch that offensive to you?"

"What? No!" Janine's face reddened as she glanced at him again. "I mean – I just . . . ugh." She covered her eyes with one hand. "Nevermind. I'm sorry I brought it – _mentioned_ it. Sorry I mentioned it."

"You needn't be sorry – I am not offended. I did not mean to upset you."

An odd, strangled giggle escaped Janine's lips. "Oh, I'm not upset. It's just, well . . . sometimes when I'm trying to think, I look down, and if you're facing me . . ."

"Ah. Perhaps we should sit side-by-side, then, so as not to cause you distress." L shifted so that his knees were pointed away from her. "Is this better? I confess, manners are not my strong point."

"Yeah, I, uh, kinda noticed." Janine's eyes twinkled as they met his. "Honesty is more important than manners anyway, but, well, thanks."

L nodded, following her gaze to watch the Frisbee players leaping over green grass once more. Further across the field, there was a larger group playing volleyball, and he wondered why so many students would spend so much time on such non-productive activities. He decided it was time to focus.

"Has anything else unusual happened to you?"

"Um . . . unusual?"

"Yes. Anything like when you found the container of blood?"

Janine blanched. "No. Nothing . . . nothing like that." She stared at the blanket, tracing the lines in the plaid with one shaking finger. "I've been more careful since then."

"What about when you were younger?"

"Excuse me?"

L realized that he was being far less subtle than he had intended, but forged on. "Your behavior at the crime scene . . . it led me to believe that you had experienced some earlier trauma."

"Trauma . . ." Janine's brown eyes had a faraway look to them for a moment, sun glinting off the lenses of her cat-eye glasses, and then a steeliness he hadn't seen before came over them. "I don't want to talk about it, sorry."

"That is quite alright," L said, squashing his regret. "I was merely concerned for your well-being." Seeing that her expression was still closed to him, he decided to try an alternate approach, one that would, unfortunately, pay off later rather than sooner, if at all. "If you would like to talk to me about it sometime, you can, but I will not press you."

Janine nodded rapidly, still staring at the blanket. "OK."

L stood and stepped onto the grass, relishing the cool, springy feel of it on his toes. "I must get back to work now. Thank you very much for lunch, Janine."

Her head tilted, eyes seeming to pull reluctantly his way, her expression blank. "Thanks for joining us, Ezekiel. It was nice to see you more, um, relaxed."

L nodded, turning to leave, wondering why he wouldn't normally seem relaxed as he loped toward the dorm, already looking forward to the work ahead of him.

* * *

Finally, in the evening, the file had arrived. He could understand why she wouldn't want to talk about it. Her account of the event, transcribed when she was twelve, was harrowing enough. It was clear from the descriptions in the file that Janine's brother had saved her life, giving her the opportunity to escape before succumbing to the wounds inflicted on him by the group of men who had hemmed them in on their way back from the library. L thought that it was unlikely that the brother had known that she would see it all from where she'd hidden. L also thought that, while such a trauma would have affected her significantly, there was no guarantee that it would have induced her to become a murderer herself, at least not in the manner of the Butcher, though he conceded to himself that he could not rule it out. _Given her behavior at the scene and since then_, L thought, _she is unlikely to be the culprit in this case_. _The trauma she experienced as a pre-teen only raises the likelihood from 1% to 3%_.

As he shoved the file back into its hiding place under a loose floorboard inside his closet, he shoved certain memories of his own from his mind. L knew all too well what it was like to watch a loved one die, messily, and be unable to help them. _I need to focus_, he thought. _If I miss something important, that arrogant clod Coil might actually solve the case first – and there are lives at stake, after all_. L perched in his customary spot at the end of his bed, which was situated close enough to his desk that it precluded his need for a chair, simplifying things, though he missed being able to twirl.

An oddly regular buzzing noise began emitting from somewhere, disrupting L's train of thought, and he cocked his head. After a moment, eyes widening, he bent to reach under the bed. Phone now firmly in his two-fingered grasp, he pressed the button to answer it.

"I can only imagine that this must be an emergency," L intoned drily, confirming to himself that there was indeed a mechanism in his phone that allowed it to be turned on remotely.

"Indeed it is. I am sorry for contacting you in this manner, but . . . there has been a breach." Watari's intake of breath was audible over the connection. "A and B are missing."

L remained frozen in his crouch. "For how long?"

"The last verifiable sighting of them was on Wednesday evening. We thought we'd finally caught up to them today, but discovered that they had diverted our attention to the wrong country and had already crossed the Atlantic. The trail of misleading clues they left for us was quite effective – I'd be proud of them if it wasn't –"

"Why did you not tell me right away?"

"I did not want to trouble you unnecessarily. Also, we had fully expected to catch them."

"I see. And your assessment at this point?" L fought to keep his tone neutral.

"I have no direct evidence of this, of course, but I suspect that they are on their way to you. They have been talking animatedly about your current case since they began assisting us with the photo analysis."

"Are you in the same location as before?'

"I am."

"Have you determined an arrival time for them?"

"It's possible that they are already in Toronto, based on the surveillance timestamp from Heathrow, but they may have taken an indirect approach and still be en route. I know Montreal is lovely this time of year . . ."

"Did you consider that they might have flown to the US and then driven up?" L knew that he didn't have to point out the relatively lax security at the Canadian-US border any more than he had to mention Beyond's skill at hot-wiring cars.

"Yes, actually. Despite the rather obvious choice of flying into New York City, it would clearly give them the most options for flights as well as . . . vehicular opportunities. We've already started looking at all three airports and –"

"Actually, I recommend that you start looking in Rochester or Buffalo instead – they could easily have taken a short flight up to get closer to the border and possibly avoid more well-surveilled areas. It will save you time to start there, considering the long list of stolen vehicles you'd otherwise be facing for the New York City region."

"Mm – I had thought that the preponderance of thefts would make it more likely they'd steal one from the more metropolitan area."

"Odds are they took that into consideration when making their choice. In any event, checking Rochester and Buffalo first will be quicker – if I am right, you'll have found them much sooner, and if I am not, you won't have lost that much more time."

"Agreed – I'll get to it. Be prepared, however, for them to arrive, just to be safe."

"I will. I intend to turn them back around as quickly as possible. As much as they may yearn for field experience, they will draw too much attention to me and themselves – B especially. This must not be allowed to jeopardize the case."

"Roger and I will work as quickly as we can."

"I know. Thank you." L terminated the call. He kept his gaze on the video feeds, scrolling through methodically. He knew that he could not afford to let his anger get the better of him.

L wasn't sure which bothered him more, the fact that Watari and Roger had dropped the ball and let two of his potential successors slip away, or the fact that Aleister had gone along with such a pointless expedition. There was no doubt in L's mind that Beyond was the primary instigator in their departure. Beyond always seemed to find exactly the wrong thing to do and then do it, as if he valued the disruption more than the results.

Any time he was at Wammy House, L tended to avoid Beyond, even more than he avoided the other orphans. B had been brought there just over two months after A, and one day prior to L's twelfth birthday. The unruly boy had managed to irk L almost immediately by mimicking him mockingly to his face and later ruining his birthday cake. Beyond was always pushing – pushing, fittingly, beyond the point of reason. Running off with Aleister in tow was yet another example of how unstable and unsuitable he was to succeed L. Aleister was far more suited to the task, if occasionally oversensitive, but recent events had created a rift between him and L. In fact, L wasn't sure what he would say to either of them, other than "get out," and he hoped futilely that they would be intercepted before they could arrive.

Shaking his head in aggravation, L realized that he hadn't been paying full attention to the video feeds. _I may as well take the time to shower now_, L thought, shutting the program down. _Perhaps I will find it easier to concentrate afterwards_.

L walked to the closet and extracted a towel and his bottle of strawberry body wash. Keys in his pocket, he left his shoes behind and padded down the hall toward the bathroom. The simple act of cleaning himself always relaxed him. It almost made up for the fact that he rarely slept.

* * *

Author's Note: Fun fact: there are an absurdly large number of times in the Death Note anime (and to a lesser extent in the manga) where L's crotch or butt is directly in the "camera" – I was re-watching the anime for some reference points and was like "wow, what the . . ." I'm wondering if the creators did this intentionally as a sort of sly joke, but it inspired me to be a little silly by addressing that in this fic.

Since this is all occurring back before 9/11, the border security between the US and Canada was more relaxed then – they'd check your driver license, but not ask for a passport. Doubt there were any beatings of scifi authors just for getting out of their cars then (google Peter Watts if you're curious about THAT mess).

I'll try to update again soon. Things are taking a turn I wasn't quite expecting . . .

Thanks for reading!


	6. Spindrift

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore.

* * *

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 6: Spindrift

"I cannot believe that you insisted on stopping to get that awful 'garbage plate,' as they so aptly named it – you slowed our progress considerably."

"Henh, henh – it was worth it." Beyond licked his lips. "A man can't live on jam alone, you know."

"Ye gods, that nearly sounded rational. Now I _know_ I'm delirious." Aleister stared out the side window, numbly wishing that he'd insisted on driving the first leg of the trip. It had been astounding enough that their false identification papers had served them so well thus far, but the unexpected rental car upgrade to a nice sedan had put Beyond in a chipper mood, which was itself an unbidden miracle. As much as Beyond had insisted that he could easily steal a car, Aleister had insisted right back that Watari would be expecting that. In spite of their success, he did wish they hadn't used a stolen credit card in the process, though he supposed it couldn't be helped now as they barreled down the highway.

"Nothing wrong with a little delirium, Ally-oop."

Aleister rolled his eyes. "The highly debatable nature of that statement notwithstanding, my point is that we cannot afford to sample the regional cuisine at every town along our route. We –"

"Relax! It was _one_ stop, at the start of our trip. Starving ourselves won't get us there any faster. We've got plenty of caffeine now," Beyond gestured at the large cooling cups of coffee and the box of NoDoz between them, "so we shouldn't need to stop for awhile. Unless _you_ have something in mind."

Recalling an earlier conversation, Aleister clenched his teeth. "We are _not_ going to a bar."

"Aw c'mon, we've got shiny new IDs that say we're 21 – it'd be a shame not to get all the use out of them we can." Beyond waggled his eyebrows, grinning into headlights.

"This is _not_ some schoolboy's holiday we're on!" The sharpness in his own voice took Aleister by surprise. "We're damned lucky to have gotten this far, and you know it. _You_ might pass for as much as eighteen in a darkened room, but I bloody well wouldn't, so we've got to keep our contact with other people to a minimum. Or have you decided on a more pedestrian challenge than the one you proposed to me?"

"Keep yelling at me, and you'll _be_ a fucking pedestrian."

"Oh, promises promises, Beyond. Don't be so predictable – it sullies my opinion of you."

"Like I care."

"You wanted me along, whatever your reasons."

"My reasons? _Pity_. You'd be lost without me – bored and hopeless."

Aleister exhaled sharply. "On the contrary – it is only _with_ you that I am lost, and hopeless, though I concede that I am never bored." He glanced at Beyond, who was keeping his eyes on the road for a change. "You included me because you know that I keep you focused on the goal, and apparently I function as some semblance of a conscience for you. Not to mention the fact that I'm a fucking genius."

Beyond's cackle filled the enclosed space of the car. "I love it when you curse, Ally-oop – it's like watching a nun slide down a stripper pole."

"But enough about your mother." As his ears were assaulted by Beyond's raucous laughter again, Aleister allowed himself a smile. He already knew they were making a terrible mistake, embarking on a fool's errand. Despite this, he felt strangely thrilled to be doing something so wrong, so unlike anything he'd ever done before. Aleister hoped that they wouldn't disrupt things too much, but he knew that things would have gotten much more disrupted if Beyond had gone on without him.

"We won't stop again until we switch, after Buffalo." Beyond conceded at last.

"Fair enough." Aleister sighed. "Though it is a shame we won't have time to stop at Niagara. I'd love to see the falls up close."

"Henh, henh, henh. I've always wanted to throw a body over the falls, just to see what sort of damage that would do to it."

"Well, that's an appalling thought. Patently impossible to observe sufficiently in order to verify the results of such damage to a body in any event, considering the likelihood that it would be trapped beneath the falling water – unless you were volunteering to pitch yourself off?" Raising an eyebrow, Aleister speared Beyond with a glance.

"You're gonna regret that."

"Oh really? I doubt –" Aleister reared back, waving a hand in front of his face. "Bloody hell! Crack a window, you bastard!"

Cackling filled the car again, along with the pungent aroma, and Aleister and Beyond struggled for dominion over the automatic window controls as the teens hurtled through the night. In only a few hours, they would be at their destination, breathing the hopefully sweeter air of Toronto.

* * *

_Intolerable_ – there was no other word for it. Although, now that he was thinking it through, there were several other words he could use. Beads of water cooled his body as he stood clenching his fists, considering how to proceed. Whoever was responsible hadn't taken his body wash, which he would have noticed in any event, but the bottle was unlikely to conceal much. He made up his mind. _The intention here was obviously to shame me_, L thought; _therefore, I will show no shame_. Grabbing his body wash in one hand, he moved the thick white curtain aside once more, sparing a glance at the spot on the shelf just outside the shower stall where his clothing and towel had been, and began his resolute walk to the exit.

He intended to contact the RA immediately to open his door for him, since his room key had been in his now-missing pants. Though L didn't care much about what others thought of him, he strongly disliked feeling vulnerable and being inconvenienced. He did nothing to suppress his anger at this, knowing that it would fit his role well, and he found that it was helpfully warming him up as he took his first steps out of the men's communal bathroom.

Voices were audible at both ends of the hall, but no one was waiting outside the door, so for a moment, L wondered if his clothing could have been taken by accident. _Impossible_, L thought; _no one would take clothing not their own and be unaware of it_. _This was clearly a juvenile prank – the kind of thing Beyond might do, if he were here_ . . . He pushed the possibility from his mind as he strode down the hallway, steeling himself for discovery and derision.

He went over the two most expedient ways to contact the RA: taking the elevator to the ground floor and knocking on his door, or walking to the public phone on this floor and calling him. The phone was further down the hall than the elevator, but going down to entry level meant possibly sharing the ride with others and then crossing the lobby naked, possibly in front of rowdy drunkards who had the outside doors propped open as so often happened on Saturday nights. Thus, L chose to go for the phone, which was just past the kitchen at the end of the hall designated for female residents. L sighed, still gripping his body wash in one swinging hand as he passed the elevator, hoping he would get there unimpeded. As he continued along, the phone on the wall was within sight up ahead.

"Oh, no no – we are switching to soda! I – oomph!"

_Of course_, L thought, stepping back from the impact, light spilling onto Janine from the still-open door as she turned to face him. "I apologize for my state of undress," he said quickly. "Someone stole my clothing while I was showering."

After looking up and down while he spoke, Janine's face was redder than he'd ever seen it, and he hoped that she was not upset enough to harm him. "I . . . buh, um . . ."

"I need to contact the Resident Assistant since my keys were also stolen. Please excuse me." Not sure what else to say, he pushed past her, still intent on his goal. Water from his hair dripped down the ridge of his back, and he wondered idly if he was leaving a trail. The phone was almost within reach as he moved toward it, light from the kitchen flashing across him as he passed the open door. Behind him, further down the hall, laughter erupted, but he did not turn. Eyes narrowed, he lifted the receiver.

"Woohoo! Yeah, _some_body knows how to party – check this guy out!"

The voice was vaguely familiar, but L ignored it, dialing the phone. As it rang, he stared at the wall, noticing in his peripheral vision a group of people in the kitchen pointing at him and standing. A group also seemed to be forming down the hall he'd just traversed.

"Whattaya doin', princess? Puttin' on a show for the ladies?" The voice came again, booming down the hall.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Craig," L said in response to the RA on the phone. "This is Ezekiel Penn on the sixth floor. I apologize for interrupting your evening, but my key has been stolen, and I require access to my room. Number 607."

"Oh, OK. Are you sure you didn't just lose it?"

"I am completely certain, yes."

"No problem. I'll be right up."

"Thank you." L hung up the phone and turned, displeased to see the knot of people down the hall now blocking access to his room. Ignoring the group of women clustered in the doorway of the kitchen, all of whom were staring and giggling, he moved toward the knot, squaring his shoulders, determined to move through them.

"Give him his _clothes_ back, or I'll kick your fucking _ass!_"

L blinked, slowing his pace as he approached the group. _That sounded very much like Janine's voice_, he thought, _but that did not seem like something she would say_.

"Oh hey, princess! Nice of you to join us." The tall student with the spiky blond hair addressed L over the heads of several shorter students, many of whom moved aside to include L, a loose circle forming.

"So, you stole my clothing because you were confused regarding my gender?" L stared at him through narrowed eyes, remembering the student's name and noting the splotchy redness in his face. _Knut's drunk_, he thought; _how very predictable_.

"Oh, obviously, princess – you're prettier than half the girls on campus!" Knut laughed. "But you're so fucking scrawny, you'd probably break if I sneezed at you."

L resisted the urge to throw his body wash at Knut's head. "And now you're telling me that you find me _pretty_. What an interesting statement – particularly from a moronic sociopath with no discernable skills."

"Oooh! Look who's gettin' feisty!" Knut moved toward, grinning and clenching his meaty hands into fists. "You think you can fight me? You actually think you have a chance?"

"Naturally, your next step is to initiate some form of physical contact disguised as aggression. You must truly be desperate to take such measures, but I assure you that you are not my type."

Titters from the crowd around them seemed to incense Knut, and he bared his teeth. "You pansy-ass motherfucker, I will –"

_HOOOOOONK!!_

The group jumped as one and Knut clutched his right ear. Janine stepped back, and L abruptly realized that she hadn't been there moments before, let alone holding an airhorn straight-armed like a weapon.

"Leave him alone, Knut! It's not his fault you're a drunken loser who's flunking out!"

"Fuckin' bitch . . ." Knut made a grab for the airhorn, but Janine pulled back, nearly hitting Danielle behind her with her elbow. As the combative blond man stepped toward her, L dropped and spun, landing his shin in the crook of Knut's knee, buckling it and causing him to drop to the floor on hands and knees. The crowd hushed immediately, and Knut looked up, face red with rage.

L stepped back, spinning to return to his previous position, and felt his penis slap his thigh – something of which he might have been less aware had so many eyes not been on him. "Still confused about my gender?" He smirked down at Knut, whose vantage point seemed particularly unfortunate. A faint ding sounded amidst the nervous laughter of the gathered students.

"OK, break it up. Has anyone seen Ezekiel – whoa." Craig blinked twice as he entered the crowd. "What the hell is going on?"

"Apparently, Knut stole Zeke's clothes as a part of some weird mating ritual." Danielle drawled, leaning against Janine.

"I neglected to mention that my key was in my clothing, which was also stolen." L met Craig's eye, feeling calmer.

"I didn't steal _any_thing!" Knut unsteadily regained his feet. "Search my room! I don't care! This freak's waving his dick around, and I'm gettin' blamed for some shit? This is _bogus_."

L sighed. "Based on that response, I'd guess he threw my belongings out of a window. Once I am clothed, I can check the periphery . . ." Blinking at sudden warmth, L looked to his left and saw that Janine was wrapping her picnic blanket around him.

"I . . . I went to get it earlier, but then all the yelling happened . . ." She quickly tucked it in around his shoulders and stepped back. "There."

"Thank you, Janine." Dipping his head once, L thought that his nudity must have been bothering her a great deal if she needed to cover him when it was clear that he would be out of her sight soon, now that the RA had arrived. The crowd seemed to be dispersing, and even Knut was moving away, back down the other end of the hall.

"C'mon Ezekiel, let's get you into your room." Craig gestured, a weary expression weighting his round face, and L fell in behind him as they walked to his door. Craig cleared his throat. "I'm gonna wanna talk to you too, Knut, so don't go far."

"Whatever." Knut didn't even look over his shoulder as he stomped down the hall, his spiky hair strangely immovable.

At L's door, Craig pulled out a ring of keys that jingled merrily as he turned one in the lock. "There ya go."

L moved past Craig, padding into his room, still clutching Janine's blanket like a shroud. "Thank you, Craig."

"No problem." Craig followed him in, pocketing his key ring. "You sure Knut's the guy who took your stuff?"

"Yes. I would put the likelihood at 93%, considering the way he approached me to gloat and essentially claim credit for his prank." L set the body wash on the bureau next to the coffeepot, keeping hold of the blanket with one hand.

"Has anything else happened between you two? Anything that might have . . . brought this on?"

"Our contact prior to this has been negligible. In fact, I cannot recall a single direct conversation with him. His actions against me were entirely unprovoked and likely the result of boredom."

Craig scratched the back of his neck under his shoulder-length curls. "You may be right, but why you?"

Continuing to stare at the RA, L kept his breathing slow and even. "Opportunity. I happened to be nearby – he happened to be drunk. It is . . . also possible that he sees me as an easy target. He called me scrawny and suggested that I was feminine, for example, so he may feel I represent some affront to his masculinity." L shrugged, keeping his role as student in mind. "My graduate focus is on genetics, rather than psychology, so I can only guess."

"OK, sure." Craig nodded, moving to leave. "I'm gonna ask you two to steer clear of each other for now – I don't wanna have to come up here to break up any fights."

"I understand. I expect that will be unnecessary."

"Good to hear." Craig nodded. "Let me know tomorrow if you can't find your key. We'll have to change your lock, and there's a fee for that."

"Of course."

The door clicked shut and L found himself fighting some indignation. Being robbed and humiliated in a pointless prank was bad enough, and possibly having to pay for a new lock added insult to injury, but L mainly resented the 'blame the victim' attitude he seemed to have gotten from Craig. _No matter_, L told himself; _he is likely just following a script given to every Resident Assistant – after all, most altercations are a consequence of mutual ill will_.

L dropped the blanket on the bed and slipped on a clean set of boxers. He was going to head right outside and find his clothing, and key – and if he did not find them, then Craig would be hearing from him well before morning. He considered possibly causing some trouble for Knut in retribution but reasoned that such action, even if he was not blamed, could draw more attention to himself, which he did not want. Ignoring the brutish undergraduate seemed like a better approach.

Hair still damp but now fully clothed, L emerged into the hallway again, his keycard for the outer door in his pocket. A smattering of voices were still audible in the hallway.

"Hey, remember when I said I didn't know what you saw in him?"

"Um, yeah . . ."

"Well, I think I just saw it. _Dayum_."

"Danielle!"

A distant click was followed by muffled conversation, indicating that another door had closed. L sighed and decided that Saturday nights in a dorm were not ideal for showering if the goal was relaxation. He exited his room, resigned to the prospect of rummaging in shrubbery.

* * *

Sunday had been largely uneventful, to L's relief. Most of the dorm residents from his floor seemed quietly busy or absent, which suited L just fine. The isolation had allowed him to catch up on more coursework and casework. He had walked back to the dorm from supper with Geoff, whom he was starting not to mind. The grad student had a calm, easy demeanor and was surprisingly intelligent despite his lackadaisical speaking manner. L was pleased that there seemed to be at least one student with whom he could converse without either of them feeling especially uncomfortable.

Fingering the key he'd retrieved last night, now tucked into a clean pair of jeans, L stepped into his usual perch, ready to start his night-time vigil when a knock on the door stayed his hand.

L padded over to the door and opened it. "Ah. Hello, Janine. I hope that you are not still upset with me."

"I – what?" Janine's head tilted, a crinkle in her brown forming as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Why would I be upset with you?"

"For subjecting you to an unobstructed view of my body."

"Oh. I – wow. That was, um, _not_ your fault. I'm still mad at Knut for doing that to you. Did you find your stuff?"

"Yes. It was in a pile outside, under a window, as I had suspected it would be."

"_That's_ good, that's good . . ." Janine looked down at her hands as her fingers tangled with each other.

"Is there something I can do for you?" L wondered if she was ready to talk about her brother's death, but cautioned himself to be patient rather than asking her outright. _Nothing she has done since my last assessment has strengthened or weakened the low possibility that she is the murderer in this case_, he thought, _but any insight I can gain from her could help me solve it_.

"It's – oh, it's not important, but, well, if you don't need my blanket anymore . . ."

"Of course. I have not yet washed it, but if you require it immediately . . ." L stepped back from the door, turning and walking to the bed where it still rested. Hearing the door click shut, he looked over his shoulder to see that Janine had entered to stand in the center of the room.

"You don't have to wash it. It's dry clean only anyway."

"I see. As you wish." L turned back to the bed and grasped a corner of the folded blanket. The sound of shifting cloth accompanied his movement, and as he faced her once more, he saw that she had moved closer to him. "Here you are," he said, proffered blanket in hand. "Thank you again for your kindness."

"You're welcome." Janine's fingers brushed his in the exchange, and he thought he detected a tremor.

"Did you want to t—"

Suddenly, she was upon him, her lips mashing against his, warm and moist. Her hand came to rest on his chest, as if for balance, and her tongue flicked lightly against his lower lip before L found himself staggering back, his own hand raised as if to ward off a blow, until the backs of his knees met the edge of his bed.

"Why did you do that?" L's eyes were wide.

"I – well, I just . . . oh boy . . ." Janine's blush overtook her again, and she clutched the blanket to her chest. Dropping her eyes from L's unbroken stare, she turned and retreated toward the door. "I'm sorry. My mistake."

"Wait!" L's own voice surprised him. "Please – I need to know why you did that."

Her eyes held a confusion that echoed his own as she returned his stare. "You . . . don't understand why I kissed you?"

"That is correct." L tried to get his breathing under control.

Janine blinked. "You're . . . you're not even kidding." She stood her ground halfway across the room. "Have you never been kissed before?"

"Hm." L lowered his hand from its defensive position and brought his thumb to his lip, gazing at the ceiling. "Depending on context . . . would such interaction with family members be considered equivalent in this matter?"

"Uh, definitely not. Or, you know, _hopefully_ not . . ."

"Understood. In that case, I have been kissed twenty-three times, by non-family members, though only seven of those times were on the mouth. I believe that four out of those seven times were of a potentially romantic nature, but three of those four, including this time, would be considered non-consensual."

Janine's head reared back. "Buh – wait. Are you . . . are you saying I just _forced_ you?"

"Well, it is not inaccurate to say that you did not obtain my consent." Calmer, L leveled his gaze at her, face blank.

"What the . . ." Her mouth hung slightly open.

L wasn't sure what she wanted him to say, so he tried again. "The kiss was pleasant enough, Janine. I am not angry with you, despite your presumption. I just do not understand why _you_ would want to kiss _me_."

"Presump—" Janine shook her head, soft brown hair swinging, and she tilted her head back to take her turn staring at the ceiling. "Great. So you think I'm some kind of _mouth-rapist_, and now you're either insulting me or you're fishing for compliments?"

"I did not call you a 'mouth-rapist', and I have no interest in compliments." L was starting to feel impatient. "I simply wish to understand your motives."

"My _motives_."

"Yes." L continued to stare, wondering why she seemed upset and sensing that his opportunity to question her was slipping away. "Everyone has motivations, hidden or not."

"I . . . you're . . ." Brittle laughter spilled from Janine, the tone surprising him. "Wow. I should have listened to Danielle."

"What does that –"

"You pick apart everything I say!" Janine's shout rang in the room, a strand of hair falling across her still-red face. "No matter what I do – it's like . . . you treat me like I can't be trusted or something! Or like I'm some lab experiment, like something you're trying to dissect – _ugh_. Why are you so suspicious of everything?"

"Many situations warrant suspicion."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head at the floor, her hair like curtains about to close. "You know what?" Janine met L's eye, steeliness back in her gaze despite the welling tears. "Forget it. I'm sorry I liked you. I'm sorry I thought you cared about me. I'm sorry I tried to kiss you. I'm sorry you can't understand something as basic and simple as human attraction, or even normal conversation!" Her knuckles paled as she gripped the blanket, still held in front of her. "But I'm _not_ sorry that you don't like me, and I'm _not_ sorry that I found out now before I wasted any more time on you." Uprooting her feet from the floor, she turned, moving to the door and yanking it open.

L kept silent, watching her go, not noticing until the door slammed shut behind her that his midsection was clenched and his heart rate was higher than normal. The discomfort felt odd, and he marveled that his emotions were strong enough to physically twist him up in such a way. _This is for the best_, he thought, pressing a palm against his tense belly. _As much as I might have valued what insights I could have gained from questioning her, a romantic attachment, however improbable, would cause more harm than good at this juncture_. _If nothing else, it would certainly have skewed my focus, and I cannot afford that_.

Returning to the perch he'd meant to take earlier, L started the program and began to watch. The ritual calmed him. As he scanned the feeds, L ran his tongue over his lip, wishing he could taste some evidence of her having been there.

* * *

Author's Note: And here it is – further proof that I am evil. ^_^

In case you're wondering, no, L's not doing capoeira yet. His self defense techniques largely stem from the judo and tai chi training I referenced earlier in this fic. I figured he'd improvise and combine techniques where needed, also applying his knowledge of biology/anatomy and physics.

The garbage plate is a real thing, btw – look it up on wiki or google it if you doubt me. It's frequently consumed post-alcohol binge, and it can probably stop your heart from the fat content alone, but if you're in Rochester, NY, give it a try. There's, uh, no vegetarian version though. And I know lots of folks have Beyond subsisting exclusively on jam since he consumes only that and coffee in front of Misora in Another Note, but I figure he was actively impersonating L then (not to fool her so much as send a message to L), so there's no reason why he wouldn't eat other things when he wasn't impersonating him.

I'll update as soon as I can, though there may be a slight delay as I make sure all my plot points connect without violating characterization. Thanks for reading!


	7. Sneaker Wave

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore.

%********************************%!%********************************%

_Our authorities as far as I know, and I only know the lowest grades, don't go out looking for guilt among the public; it's the guilt that draws them out_

– excerpt from _The Trial_, Franz Kafka

%********************************%!%********************************%

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 7: Sneaker Wave

Pallid morning light peeked from between clouds. The bare floor was cool beneath his feet as he paced.

"Yes, hence my concern. Since they were both dropped simultaneously, it means the culprit is likely not working alone. It is an important clue. Unfortunately – hm?"

"You haven't seen them yet, I take it?"

"No, I have not. I would have informed you of such a development first."

"Alright then. I'll go over the back-up images for last night in the area you've specified. Once I've got an image, I'll send the encrypted file your way."

"Thank you." L terminated the call, confident that Watari would find what he needed quickly. _Two body parts dropped at the same time – it breaks the pattern_, L thought, _and what's more, if the order of the parts is significant, we will need to determine where the parts fall in the sequence_. _Hopefully there will be a slight time difference to distinguish them_.

Rubbing his face with one hand, L tried to decide which crime scene to visit first. He knew he needed to see both, but he couldn't make his presence obvious at either location since that would raise suspicion – he'd already been present shortly after the blood drop and couldn't afford to draw more attention to himself. L yawned, stretching his back until it popped and then bending to hide his phone in its usual spot. Staying up all night was typical for him, but he felt tired for reasons he could not quite grasp. He'd seen the severed hand tumble from a tree just before the first light of dawn, with no person anywhere in sight, and the oddness of it had shaken the exhaustion from him for awhile, but now it was back. L supposed that he just needed more coffee and some food to more fully revive him. At the thought, his eyes flew wide.

"Cake!" Unconcerned that he was shouting in an otherwise empty room, L felt stricken that he had actually _forgotten_ something – and not just anything, but the prospect of receiving a home-baked cake from Gellie. He still didn't have her phone number, to his dismay, and he wondered when his memory retention had become so disastrous. Quickly going over the status of every aspect of the case as things stood now, L determined that he would have enough time to get to Gellie's place and even swing by both crime scenes before his first class started if he left immediately.

L powered down his computer and launched himself at the door, keys jingling in his pocket, his newfound energy somehow going unnoticed in his rush.

%********************************%!%********************************%

Rubbing the crusty bits from his eyes, he remained innocent of his situation for a few more seconds, sunlight slanting across an unfamiliar bedspread. Then he remembered.

"Oh, bloody hell." Aleister swung his head, squinting as he took in the room: two beds, one TV, a pair of almost-but-not-quite-closed curtains, and apparently only one occupant: himself. Spying a scrawled note on the tiny table wedged between the two beds, he reached for it, snagging the remote as well. Adjusting his position from propped up to sitting up, Aleister read the note.

_Dear Ally-oop – _

_Went out for some snacks. Back before you read this probably._

_The Beeb_

Aleister rolled his eyes, crumpling the note and lobbing it back onto the table. _He must have planned this_, he thought. _He did sleep most of the way once I took over the driving, so staying up all night or getting up early would have been no hardship for him_. Trying not to contemplate what Beyond might procure as "snacks," Aleister flicked on the TV and selected a network channel.

". . . and police have confirmed that these latest discoveries are considered to be included in the ongoing Missing Parts case. No word yet on any suspects, but according to police sources, they are interviewing several persons of interest. In other news, native son Mike Myers is returning to –"

Aleister clicked over to a national news channel. _Can't believe we missed the Toronto International Film Festival by a whole week_, he thought sullenly.

"Back to our top story, two additional body parts have been found in the Toronto Missing Parts case. Police have yet to confirm which parts were found, but this brings the count up to sixteen as of this morning. As you heard when we broke this story, the Chief of Police admitted that the drop-off of two different parts in two different locations at the same time is a, quote, 'new and disturbing trend.' Stay tuned for a panel discussion of this case with several experts in the fields of psychology, forensics, and law enforcement, coming up within the hour. And after the break, we'll tell you about the plight of a bear that seems to have lost its way –"

Brow furrowing, Aleister switched to another network.

". . . and _that's_ why you should never put a baby in the toilet! Tom?"

Expression now a grimace, Aleister clicked away from the morning show to another news network.

". . . sunny for a few more days at least, so enjoy it while you can! Back to you, Maureen."

"Thanks, Jim. In international news, we –" The newswoman stopped, a tiny crease splitting her brow as she appeared to focus on something off-camera. "I'm . . . I'm being told we have an urgent broadcast. It's – we're switching to it now."

The screen went black for a moment and was then invaded by an image of a white dove carrying the scales of justice. Aleister groaned, the hand holding the remote falling limply at his side.

"Greetings and salutations to you all once more. Rather than trouble the Chief of Police, I thought I'd get my announcement more directly to the people of Toronto, and indeed, the world. This, of course, is Eraldo Coil. I imagine you're all abuzz with the news of the two latest discoveries of body parts in Toronto. However, I've been expecting such a development, and what's more, it really changes nothing – except for the fact that this tells me the murderer is getting impatient. Our petty little butcher is so eager to give us his precious puzzle pieces that he's forgetting to keep the big picture a mystery. You also made a truly egregious error on thirteen, little butcher, so thank you for that. And seeing as we're so chummy now, I don't mind telling you something in return: despite your efforts to disguise this, several of the body parts you've left have shown evidence of having been frozen. The leg was the worst of these, with a clear freezer burn mark – how you managed to overlook that, I've no idea. Yet some of the parts were quite fresh. As I'm sure you know, in any murder case, the time of death is as important as the cause. All of these clues – the ones you meant to leave, and the ones you didn't – are filling out your puzzle far sooner than you'd planned. We are closing in on you. Consequently, I implore you: don't give us any more clues. Really. We have enough now, so just keep the rest of your messy little puzzle pieces in the freezer. We'll come to collect them, and you, soon enough. Thank you once again to the police for their invaluable assistance and to the people of Toronto for their patience. Adieu!"

The dove image faded to black, breaking into snow before the news studio popped back into view. Aleister turned the TV off. "Fucking tosser."

" . . . henh, henh, henh!"

Aleister jumped. Frowning, he bounced on the bed until it creaked. "Get out from there, you bastard!"

"Ow! Hey, quit bouncing." Beyond scrabbled out from under Aleister's bed, making crinkling noises as he emerged, glaring.

"And just how long were you planning on staying hidden?"

"Just long enough." Beyond gave Aleister a rakish grin from his position on all fours between the beds. "Here." He reached down and tossed something upward.

Aleister caught the package. "Billot Logs?" He regarded the cylindrical pink cakes encased in plastic with distaste. "So you had time for your errand after all, did you?"

"Of course I did. I told you in the note I'd be back before you read it." Beyond squatted on the carpet, munching away on a Big Turk, chocolate smearing his fingers.

"Well, at least it saves me the trouble of having to go find you." Aleister placed the packaged snack on his lap, undecided as to whether he intended to attempt to eat it. "What did you think of the edict from Monsieur Pomposite'?"

"Henh, henh." Chewing muffled Beyond's voice. "He's bluffing. I bet the killer knows it, too. He should have tried a different tactic this time – pretended to suck up to him, maybe. It would have been just as transparent as his pathetic empty threats, but it might have made the killer second-guess himself a little."

"Hm. I'm not sure I agree, though I'll gladly concede that the threats were tiresome and pointless. Odds are he'll induce the murderer to take more lives as a consequence, and while I can only hope that was not his intention . . . we do know what we're dealing with here." Aleister rolled his eyes. "Something Coil said bothered me . . ."

"Just one thing?" Beyond cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, all of it was awful, but . . . he mentioned the clues: 'the ones you meant to leave, and the ones you didn't.' He really didn't make it clear whether he meant that there were clues found that the murderer didn't intend to leave, or that the _absence_ of certain clues was a clue itself."

"I doubt Coil thought it through that much – he probably meant the clues the killer left unintentionally. And he could easily be wrong or bluffing about that too."

"I agree that that is the more likely scenario in terms of what Coil meant to say, but that just makes me wonder if the other explanation is therefore more apt." Aleister traced his jaw with a knuckle.

"You mean you think Coil might have accidentally said something smart?" Beyond snickered. "Or do you think Coil intentionally left it vague to send a message to the killer?"

"Well . . . we've no evidence that L hasn't fed Coil any ideas, directly or indirectly."

"Ha! L wouldn't help Coil. He hates that guy." Beyond finished his candy bar and reached for a bag of ketchup chips.

"Acute dislike would not prevent L from using Coil to send his own message, if he thought it would gain results."

"Yeah, yeah. I see what you're saying. It's just . . . none of this feels like L's style. I think Coil announcing first threw L off his game. Hell, he was so pissy about it, he didn't even bother to announce after that. I wish I could have seen his face . . ."

"We've no idea what his reaction was." Aleister felt his cheeks warming. "I've no doubt he was less than pleased, but he certainly would have had other reasons –"

"Oh please!" Beyond threw a discarded wrapper at Aleister's head, chewing with his mouth open. "Whatever 'reasons' L had were inventions – pretty lies to protect his ego. And we _know_ his reaction was bad just based on what Roger said on the phone to –"

"That isn't _proof_ of anything, and you know it."

"Chill out, Ally-oop – I would have done exactly what L did, just to spite Coil. You know that guy's floundering on his own. His last few 'successes' resulted from competing with L for clues and stealing his ideas. He's forgotten how to solve things on his own, if he ever knew. I'd keep my mouth shut and let Coil fail, just like L's doing. And then," Beyond linked his thumbs together and flapped his hands, "I'd swoop in and solve the case, rubbing it in that dumb fuck's face for all the world to see!"

"I'm not convinced that matches L's 'master plan.' Regardless," Aleister dropped the droll tone and leveled a stern look at Beyond, "we've got to get going on our own plan before he tracks us down."

"L won't come looking for us." Beyond crunched through the last of his chips.

"Don't be so sure. He undoubtedly knows we're here or en route at least –"

"Oh, undoubtedly." Beyond mocked. "He won't look for us because he _doesn't care_. He'll expect 'Watari' to handle it for him, to sweep us back under the rug of the orphanage. As long as we stay ahead of the old guy, we can pretty much do what we want."

Aleister looked at his hands, still toying with the wrapper of the snack cakes in his lap. He hated arguing with Beyond – it never seemed to get them anywhere, and even when Beyond was wrong, he'd never admit it. Worse, Beyond was often right, and Aleister felt his resolve slip a little more each time Beyond beat him to the truth of a matter. "Is the variety of snacks you acquired limited to candy, cakes, and whatever those malodorous crunchy bits were?"

"Henh, henh – I also scored a bag of pork rinds, but if you thought the chips were 'malodorous,' I doubt you'll like those." Beyond reached under the bed with both arms, dragging out a pile of packages and poking through them with a finger. "You haven't even tried the jelly rolls I gave you – I figured you'd like those better than these." He held up a bag imprinted with the name "Beaver Droppings."

"Charming."

"They're just some kind of maple candy. Anyway, I figure if you just line up your pink cakes end-to-end, you'd _want_ to put them in your mouth. Just imagine that they're Mr. Wonderful's –"

Aleister's foot shot out and caught Beyond in the mouth. "Shut it."

Beyond, now leaning against the other bed, rubbed his jaw, staring up at Aleister, his dark eyes dancing. For once, he was quiet. Aleister was the only real friend Beyond had, and they both knew it. Though debate was a staple of their relationship, they rarely fought with intent to harm. Aleister almost never resorted to physical violence – he'd only ever hit Beyond with any force on the first day they'd met – but he didn't believe for a second that Beyond was at all threatened. If it came down to it, Beyond would certainly win any physical conflict: he was bigger, and stronger, and he'd shown his zeal for inflicting pain when facing off with certain others at Wammy House. _Must be something in my tone that's got him staring_, Aleister thought, his glare unbroken.

Throwing aside the covers, Aleister brought both his legs around, disrupting Beyond's pile of snacks with his feet as he walked past. "I'm showering. Do what you want."

Aleister shut the bathroom door with some force, locking it, not that that would keep Beyond out if he truly wanted in. He hoped that the warm water would soothe him enough to help him more gracefully endure Beyond's inevitable taunting. Because if he couldn't endure, if they couldn't work together, then they had made a very long trip for nothing.

%********************************%!%********************************%

The single spot of red on the wood floor had been more disquieting than the absence of occupants or the remains of the cake mashed into a corner. L wished that he had had more time to examine the rowhouse before the police had arrived, but much more than that, he wished that he had visited Gellie yesterday as he had promised.

L crouched near the front door, hands cuffed behind his back as a uniformed officer eyed him from across the room. The walkie-talkie at the man's hip crackled, transmitting a voice: "We're clear. Heading back."

Footsteps came from two directions as one man descended the stairs and another re-entered via the back door. L watched them emerge into the room, doing his best to absorb every detail.

"Anything?" asked the officer who had been waiting in the front room.

Officer Maulty ignored the man entirely and walked straight to L. "I knew you were suspicious the first time I saw you. Now why the hell are you here?"

"It is as I told you. Gellie made a cake for me as a thank you for finding her cat, and I came by to pick it up from her. When I found her door unlocked, I entered to discover a mess in the kitchen and no one at home. As I reached for the phone to call the police, you arrived. Do you believe that Gellie is in danger?"

"I ask the questions, smart guy," Maulty growled.

"Is the detective inbound?" The police officer who'd gone upstairs leveled a reproachful look at Maulty.

"Not yet. We don't know if any of this is connected anyway."

"If it is, it could break the case." The officer behind Maulty spoke again, echoing L's thoughts.

"We'll call him when we're ready. There's no rush – you're not going anywhere, right buddy?" Maulty's eyes glittered as he looked down at L.

"I have not done anything wrong. I am concerned for my friend, and I'm certainly not leaving while I am handcuffed."

"Good plan." Maulty bent, staring back into L's eyes. "Here's a question: why did you kill the fucking cat?"

L's eyes widened. "Someone killed Lucy?"

"Yeah. It's in the backyard. There's barely enough room for two flower pots and a lawn chair back there, so it's hard to miss. Were you trying to make some kind of statement?"

L allowed a crease to bisect his brow. "I did not harm Gellie's cat either. It does beg the question, though . . ."

"What question is that?"

"The one you asked, of course: Why kill the cat? Or more to the point, why kill it and leave it here? It only draws attention to the scene. Without that and the mess in the kitchen, Gellie's disappearance could otherwise be written off as non-suspicious, causing a delay in the search for her. Whoever did this staged the area intentionally, either as a diversion or, as you suggest, to make a statement. But it is unclear what the statement would be, based on –"

"Stop pretending you know nothing about this!" Maulty interrupted, straightening up and glaring. "We caught you red-handed! Just admit what you did, and we'll go easier on you."

"Don't be absurd." L's eyelids dropped to half-mast, the joy of theorizing gone. "I have already told you the truth. Also, I could not have abducted Gellie and still been here for you to find. You are placing what you wish to believe above the evidence of this case."

The other two officers raised their eyebrows, and Maulty advanced on L, grabbing his collar and pulling him up. "You little prick. You know way too much about this not to be involved. You were there at the blood drop and now you're here? No way that's a coincidence. I'm gonna find out what you did, and I'm gonna nail you to the fucking wall." Maulty let go of L's pale blue shirt and turned away. "Call him."

The officer who had searched upstairs nodded and spoke into his walkie-talkie. "This is Harnett on-site at a b&e with suspicious circumstances, possible connection to MPK. We're gonna need an evidence recovery team ASAP, and get Detective Devall over here."

"Got it, Harnett," the walkie-talkie crackled back. "You there with Maulty?"

"Yeah, and Drummond," Harnett responded. "Plus one suspect in custody."

"Understood. A team's on its way." The crackling came to a stop.

As uncomfortable as L was with his current circumstances, he reasoned that he was now in a position to learn more about the internal processes the police were following pursuant to the Butcher murders. _The more I understand about what they're doing_, L thought, _the better able I will be to discern what they may have missed_. Silently waiting for their inevitable departure, L scanned the room once more, taking care not to move his eyes too much.

An abduction didn't fit the Butcher's MO, but thus far, only the results of the murderer's deeds had come to light – it was possible that he abducted all of his victims this way and this was merely the first time they'd found the connection. One difference was key: not that L himself was connected to Gellie – no one could know that – but the cat. _It is possible that the Butcher knew that the cat had picked up evidence of his crimes_, L thought, remembering the finger bone. _But killing the cat would be pointless, since the killer would not have found the bone here_ . . .

L went cold. _I endangered her_, he thought. _I endangered Gellie by bringing her cat back to her_. _I should have let it go immediately and had Watari process the evidence without ever involving her_. Striving to keep his face blank under Maulty's watchful eye, L felt the guilt wash over him and found himself wishing for anger instead. He no longer had room in his head to regret the cake he would never taste.

%********************************%!%********************************%

_You do not do, you do not do anymore, black shoe, but I have never lived inside of you. The game's the thing, and everything is the game – intermission is well behind us now, yet the well is not nearly dry. But the hound, the hound, he does astound, and may his foolishness abound! He thinks I'm making a puzzle intact, when I am about to play Scrabble, in fact. It is all starting to feel too easy – I can barely muster the verve to serve_.

_I see the paw of the pawn is snapped in the trap. How long before the puppy comes poking? The sweetest fake was his mistake, and such a gift he gave me in return. Her guileless eyes, never seeing to see, never seeming to be, each step a new misfortune, an echo of my hidden prize. Seems a pity to waste the part – a scrap of meat could draw his hunger, and all puppies need to feed_ . . .

_No amount of truth can save the lies we rely on, but I must try. Too much is at stake not to ease this ache, and the game within the game must bear fresh fruit or we will __**all**__ grow hungry_.

_As I slip, again, the barb wire snare, I will set my board for all the illiterati to see. I know what it is that men are most afraid of, and I will take that new step, utter that new word, and they will not dare to steal my playthings_.

%********************************%!%********************************%

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay. [UPDATED: Apparently ffnet has taken to swallowing my linebreaks between sections, so hopefully the new obnoxious ones I put in has fixed that – otherwise, the continuity's messed up, grr.] I wanted to post this sooner, but a bunch of Real Life™ stuff came up. I've now got a wedding and a funeral to go to soon (please, no romcom jokes), so my next update may be a teence delayed too. Once I get back into the swing of things, I should be able to complete chapters more regularly. Here's hoping, anyway.

Some darker turns coming in this. Don't you just want to slap the shit out of Coil? ^_^ I know I do, but that's part of the fun writing him.

Just FYI, although the exact ages are never spelled out in Another Note, for the purposes of my fic(s), Aleister is about 8 months younger than L, and Beyond is about 10 months younger than Aleister.

Thanks for reading!


	8. Undertow

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore.

%********************************%!%********************************%

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 8: Undertow

Humming from the fluorescent lights no longer registered and even the occasional flicker had no impact – it was all background now, easily filtered. Meditation was better accomplished when one's eyes were closed, to be sure, but L could not risk becoming inattentive, so he stared at his own reflection in the one-way mirror, expending no thought for who might be watching from the other side. The cold metal chair had since warmed from his body heat, but he still itched with resentment at having to sit with his feet touching the floor. He'd lost track of the exact hour, but by his estimation, it was at least mid-afternoon, and he'd therefore missed all of his classes for the day. L didn't spare any real concern for that. Education, valuable as it could be, was not the primary purpose in his presence here, though information-gathering was.

A fervent wish for the door to swing open once more flitted across L's mind, a wish to hear yet another snippet of conversation, intonation as important as content. He recalled the eyes upon him as he was paraded through the police station, sharp stares and knowing glances. L knew they had been thinking, and were still thinking, 'This could be him – this could be the Butcher.' The discomfort at being the subject of such unspoken accusation was interesting, but not as much as the bits of information he'd heard, just enough to tease him. _It is intriguing that rubber tubing was found at the site of the hand drop_, L thought; _perhaps this means that the Butcher is working alone after all, if he is rigging body parts to fall from trees_. _I do wonder, however, who placed the anonymous call to the police to ensure that they arrived when I did_. _The Butcher could have been watching Gellie's residence, in which case I was a convenient patsy for him_.

He stared at the mirror, bringing his own image in and out of focus, his face blurring out under harsh bluish light, taking the shape of a diffuse skull being swallowed by a black cloud before the return of clarity, over and over as he waited.

The door clicked and swung open, and L held his breath, but he heard only the sound of footsteps before it closed again. He breathed again, silently. Three steps, and the detective had moved in front of him on the other side of the scuffed grey table, a white cup to L's left marring the space between them. L waited for the man whose name and background he already knew to begin the inevitable ritual. _I am only a student, I am only a student_ . . .

"You are Ezekiel Penn."

"Yes." L continued to stare straight ahead, noting the threadbare cuffs of a yellow shirt poking from the detective's tan suit.

"Do you know why you are here?"

"Officer Maulty dislikes me."

"Officer Maulty dislikes everyone. He wouldn't have wasted my time bringing you in for no reason. Try again." The baritone was firm but not unkind. A hand gripped the chair back opposite L, a jagged scar on the left fore-knuckle, a pale indentation at the base of the ring finger.

"Because I had the bad timing to discover that my friend was missing right before the police arrived to investigate."

"How long were you friends with Angelica Fragaria?"

"Not long." L sighed, dropping his eyes to the tabletop. "I see that you have determined her fate."

"Excuse me?"

"Past tense." L met the detective's eyes, having no trouble mustering an expression of sadness for once. "You have found her body, then?"

"And where would that be?" The man stared back, expression betraying nothing.

"I would not know. Despite the appearance of her home, I had hoped that she would be found alive." L dropped his eyes again, trying to let some emotion show without letting it take over. "So I take it your use of the past tense is based on conjecture that she has not survived rather than on proof."

"All of her belongings were there, including her purse, her ID, and her keys. Her car was still parked outside. With evidence of a struggle at the scene, it doesn't look good for her."

"I agree, but that is insufficient proof that she has died."

"Why do you say that?"

"I suppose . . . I would simply _prefer_ to believe that she has survived." L kept his eyes downcast. _I would prefer to believe that_, he thought, _but the likelihood is low indeed – 8%_.

The scrape of metal on linoleum preceded the detective dropping into the chair opposite L. A file slapped the space between them. "I've read through Maulty's report from the scene, and listened to Harnett's interview with you from earlier today. I'm not going to re-ask their questions."

"I appreciate that." L's tone was dry.

The scarred finger pushed the corner of the still-closed file around like a cold porkchop on a child's plate. "Did she give you anything . . . herbal?"

L sneered. "'Herbal' remedies are no better than placebos – potentially worse, in fact. Had she offered me anything like that, I would certainly have declined."

"Hm. OK, nevermind." The detective stopped pushing the file around. "Diversion or statement?"

L blinked and looked up. "You are . . . referring to my conjecture regarding the cat?"

Intelligence sparked in the warm brown eyes staring into L's "That's right. Which scenario do you think is more likely?"

Lifting his metal-linked hands from his lap, L pressed a thumb to his lip. "Hm. Gellie's disappearance on its own is not enough to be construed as a statement, and what it might divert attention from would depend on which events were concurrent with her going missing, but I do not possess enough information on that to make an assessment. Based on what I saw at the scene, any presumed statement made by the perpetrator was unclear – the state of the kitchen was too haphazard, as if it was incidental rather than intentional, with nothing left within the home to draw the eye to the back door and the yard beyond. Had I seen the backyard itself . . ."

The detective slipped a photo from the file, flashing a glimpse of the top of the report, and slid it toward L.

"That's . . ." L leaned forward, using a knuckle to drag the photo closer and turn it. L frowned. "I hope that Lucy was no longer alive when this was done to her."

"Cats run."

Eyebrows raised, L stared at the detective.

"I worked an arson once – got there before the fire went out." The detective seemed to stare at a point just over L's shoulder, as if the past was literally hovering there just out of reach. "The couple . . . they had a lot of cats. Some of them died of smoke inhalation, some of them made it, but . . . having witnessed it first-hand, a cat on fire is going to run. Ms. Fragaria's yard wasn't disturbed, nothing else was singed –"

"Therefore the cat was dead before being set ablaze. Good point." Head tilting, L continued to examine the photo of the charred pet as he spoke. "Nothing was taken from the house or the yard?"

"No, not as far as we can tell."

"Then the likelihood of the scene being staged as a statement by the perpetrator is considerably lower than it being left as a diversion. In fact, the only element bolstering the possibility of it being a statement is you." L used a fingernail to push the photo back toward the now frowning detective.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a longshot, but . . . if the person who committed this crime knows your background well enough to have been aware of the arson case you just described to me, it is possible that he or she might have left a burned cat as a kind of message to you personally."

"What kind of message do you think that would send?"

"I do not know." L licked his lips, resisting the urge to sip water from the cup that had been placed there hours before, preferring to be thirsty rather than tortured by a full bladder. "It would likely depend on the details of the arson case – perhaps it is simply meant to point you in the direction of where the arson occurred or who was involved. Of course, there is also the possibility that it is both a message _and_ a diversion, if the message is intended to mislead you. In fact, I would say it is even possible that killing the cat was done to make it seem as though Gellie was harmed or killed, when in fact she was not, though it is difficult to determine the likelihood of that from the evidence you've presented to me."

The detective regarded L with narrowed eyes as he slipped the photo back into the folder, giving L one more glimpse of its contents. The words "Full Workup" were circled at the top of the report. "You're a med student?"

"Correct."

"Ever consider detective work?"

L gave a lopsided smile. "My parents were rather insistent that I apply myself in a more 'respectable' field."

The detective laughed softly. "So were mine."

"Ah. So you defied them."

Unmoving, the detective stared at the closed file. "They died. I did what I wanted."

"I see." L wondered what the detective's purpose was in diverting the conversation. "Do you believe that Gellie's disappearance is connected to the 'Missing Parts' case?"

Lifting the file from the table in a sweeping motion, the detective stood, face blank, chair grating as he pushed it back. "I can't discuss an ongoing case, especially with a suspect."

"You consider me a suspect?" L forced himself to sound surprised. _I need him to tell me something useful_, L thought, _something that is not in the reports Watari regularly acquires from the police files_.

"I'll level with you." The detective leaned in, pressing a hand to the table, staring directly into L's eyes. "You don't seem like a likely candidate to me, based on the evidence of the case and, quite frankly, my gut feeling. But I can't rule you out. We don't have anything solid on you, other than being at the wrong place at the wrong time, so we're letting you go. Just . . . don't do anything stupid." He pushed off the table, standing tall, light glinting off the skin exposed by his receding hairline.

"What exactly would you consider stupid in this context?"

"Well, maybe something like walking directly into and disrupting a crime scene, for example." His eyes flashed.

"I had no way of knowing it was a crime scene –"

"Based on everything you've said, you're definitely perceptive enough to have known something was wrong as soon as you discovered Ms. Fragaria's front door was open, and you know enough about detective work to have realized that entering her home and looking around would compromise evidence." Taking a few steps toward the exit and glaring over his shoulder, the detective reached for the doorknob. "Next time you 'discover' something, take two steps back and call the police. Deductive skills or not, you need to leave the investigating to us."

"Then _catch_ him."

"What?"

"My friend is missing, people are dying, and more are likely to follow." L injected as much outrage into the low growl of his voice as he could. "It seems as though the murderer is targeting people whose identities wouldn't be in any criminal or law enforcement database, unless the news reports are mistaken about the found remains being unidentified. Meanwhile, the media cheerfully theorizes that a medical student is behind the murders when it is patently clear to all of us that that could not be the case. We are studying medicine to _save_ lives, our own lives are in danger, _and_ we are being singled out with baseless accusations as innocents die around us. So please, _catch_ this murderer, and I will be happy to stay out of your way." Pleased yet disquieted by his own performance, L leaned back in the chair, wishing his feet were comfortably upon it.

The detective regarded L thoughtfully from the still-closed door before sauntering over to L's side of the table, fishing in his shirt pocket. "Here." With two fingers, he proffered a card to L. "We'll find your friend, and we'll catch this guy. If you think of anything we need to know, you call me directly."

L took the card, noting that the name matched the one he had on file for the man, and moved his cuffed hands to stow it in his pocket. "Thank you, Detective Devall."

"You're welcome."

"By the way, I mentioned to Officer Harnett that Gellie had an ex-boyfriend, though I do not his name, but I neglected to mention that he was a fan of the band Sloan and that, according to Gellie, he was larger than me, possibly in height and certainly in girth. I do not know if this information helps you or not."

"I'll add it to the file. Anything else you need to tell me?" Devall raised an eyebrow.

"Just . . . why do you think the Missing Parts murders are being committed?"

"Look, I told you, I can't –"

"I understand – you cannot tell me about any evidence you've gathered for the case because I am technically a suspect. Based on what you said earlier, you've already decided that the killer is male, but you must have theories on the killer's motivations."

"What are _your_ theories on those?" Devall placed a hand on his hip.

"That is the problem. I cannot think of a single theory that makes sense." L wondered if Devall could tell that he was mostly lying. "I am reasonably adept at deductive reasoning, but these crimes seem irrational to me."

"Most crimes seem irrational to me." Shrugging, Devall tucked the file under his arm. "The trick is to find the irrational pattern the criminal is following."

"Hm. Yes, because rational or not, all human behavior falls into patterns of some kind." L pulled at his lip, staring at the ceiling. "I suppose it is less a matter of discovering if the killer is, for example, setting out assorted body parts with the intention of presenting puzzle pieces to be assembled but why this person would find such an act significant and what meaning we are intended to derive from it."

"So . . . you think the killer's leaving the parts out as a puzzle?"

"Not necessarily – it was simply the first half-baked theory that sprung to mind, although I do think that the killer wants to sow confusion and fear. But why those parts, and why this sequence . . ." L sighed, dropping his hands back into his lap with a jingle. "It's all very frustrating. Murdering people for any reason is already horrific enough, but the needy attention-grabbing behavior of such serial killers is especially bothersome."

"_Bothersome?_" Devall scowled.

"On the other hand, it is such self-aggrandizing behavior that makes them easier to catch – or at least, I hope it will." Unflinching, L met the detective's eye. "Promise me something?"

"I'm not sure that's –"

"_When_ you catch this murderer, let the public know what he did, but please do not let the murderer bask in fame from it. Too many criminals are rewarded for their crimes by being turned into celebrities. It is easy to tell that the killer intends to gain notoriety and is likely watching the news, enjoying the effect that his crimes are having on people. Deny him the pleasure of infamy, please."

Several moments passed as they stared at each other, almost but not quite seeing clearly who the other was. Devall sighed. "I can't actually promise you anything, but I'll do my damnedest to make sure this guy doesn't get off easy."

L nodded, face blank. "Fair enough."

"I'll send someone in to uncuff you. But seriously, like I said before, stay out of this mess. It's too dangerous. If you really want to help, stay in school – the world needs more doctors." Devall exited, entering the quiet hallway and closing the door behind him.

To some extent, L wished that he could simply reveal himself as L and take over the investigation directly, but he knew such a move would be foolhardy. Even if his present student alter ego possessed the credibility to be believed outright, it would put him in jeopardy by possibly exposing his true identity to the public and certainly tipping his hand to Coil. It could also have the consequence of causing the murderer to go into hiding. At least he now had a plausible excuse for calling the lead detective on the case directly, should the need arise, all while keeping his cover identity in place. Despite derailing his schedule, the results of his being brought in for questioning gave L some traction with the case that he did not have before, along with a bit of insight into the lead detective working it. He hoped it would be enough.

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Author's Note: This chapter was originally longer, too long really, so I split it in two. Consequently, I should be able to get the next chapter up within the week. *knocks wood* And despite trying out a different section break in my first attempt to load this, it disappeared anyway, so I'm sorry but it seems we're stuck with this one for now.

Fragaria is a genus of flowering plants – specifically, the kind that produce strawberries. Names are fun! You will probably be able to detect a couple of 'easter egg'-ish name uses in this fic.

Thanks for reading!


	9. Head, Dowsing

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore.

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 9: Head, Dowsing

_Paranoia is overrated_, L thought as the elevator rose; _though useful for keeping one's guard up, it can prove distracting too much of the time_. He'd gotten more strange looks than usual once he'd returned to campus but dismissed the increase as statistically irrelevant. Nothing in their behavior had indicated outright fear or aggression, so he'd ignored their reactions and kept moving.

The chime sounded as the door opened, and L heard another familiar sound: laughter. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen, which was fairly typical, so he faced away from it, stepping into the hall and proceeding to his door, gripping his bag of croissants.

"Hey, there he is!"

L suppressed the urge to groan and would have kept moving if not for the next voice he heard.

"Trying to give me the slip, I see." The lilt, the playfulness, were unmistakable.

L turned slowly to stare down the hall in the direction of that voice. "The likelihood of my succeeding at that would be quite low."

"Did I surprise you?"

"To be honest, I had expected you over the weekend. You're late." L made no move to approach.

"That's a _yes_, then." He inclined his head, addressing the students surrounding him. "Thank you for keeping me company, ladies, but I must leave you to your studies now that my brother is here."

"You guys don't really look alike . . ."

"Actually, Connie, we were both adopted, but we did grow up together." Aleister smiled. "As older brothers go, I could have done far worse than Ezekiel." He slung a light jacket over his shoulder, looking much more at ease with people he'd just met than L had ever felt.

"Aw, Alessandro – you can always come visit us later if you want."

"That sounds lovely, Kim. Perhaps if –"

"You and I need to have a conversation, _Alessandro_." L continued to stare at Aleister, willing him to dislodge himself from the distracting crowd spilling from the kitchen.

"If you insist, big brother." Aleister made a show of rolling his eyes as he turned to wave at the still giggling group. "Thanks again – and good luck on that test tomorrow, Allison." A chorus of soft "bye"s trailed in his wake as he strolled toward L.

Shuffling, hunched as ever, L moved to his door and unlocked it, holding it open with his index finger, face blank. Aleister stepped over the threshold, entering the room fully before his smile faded and walking to the window with a view of the pinking sky. L shut the door firmly, relocking it. Setting the bag of croissants on the bureau, he shuffled over to the bed, bending to reach for his phone.

"Not yet." Aleister didn't turn around.

Jaw clenched, L dropped the phone on his desk, slipped out of his sneakers, and moved to his usual perch, angled to face Aleister. Several moments went by, but he was determined to wait him out. _An explanation will be forthcoming_, he thought, _whether he wants to provide one or not_.

"Your thoughts?"

Aleister's resigned question caught him off-guard, and L exhaled sharply. "What confuses me is why you went along with this poorly hatched plan at all."

"Because he would have gone on without me, regardless of any objections I might have raised." Aleister sighed. "And, if I'm being honest, because I wanted to see you."

L considered the possibility that Aleister might have misread him all those months ago, but dismissed it. _Even when he is emotional, he seems to think clearly_, L thought, _a quality I envy_. _Which means he must have wanted to see me despite my reaction_. L supposed that he should have anticipated this, but then he hadn't anticipated Aleister kissing him, abruptly and passionately, the last time L had been at Wammy House. They had been in the middle of another of their philosophical debates, and to L, there had seemed to be no transition. L had shoved him away, shocked, and Aleister had avoided him for the following two days. Another case had then drawn L back out into the world beyond the orphanage, and he'd left in relief to focus on things he could understand.

That singular moment of awkward intimacy had made up L's mind – he'd decided then that he could no longer allow himself to openly visit Wammy House. Despite the comfort and familiarity it offered him, L felt that letting his successors form emotional attachments to him had been a mistake and would prove counter-productive. The presence of both Aleister and Beyond in Toronto was a perfect example of this. L believed that it would be better if the others thought of him in the abstract only, as a role they would one day fill. For this reason, Roger and Watari had begun to tell the orphans that the person who'd been known as "L" was only an inspector reporting to the real L on their progress. It wasn't clear how many of them believed the lie, if any, but they all seemed to be playing along – with the exceptions of A and B.

Realizing that he'd been silent for over a minute, L swallowed. He still didn't know what to say to him. "Where is B?"

Distant stare unbroken, Aleister would have been the picture of nonchalance, facing the window with his jacket still slung over his shoulder, his other hand in a pocket, had he not been standing stiff as a pillar of salt. "I last saw him at the hotel. I confess I quite believed him when he said that he was only going to the chemist's. I should have anticipated his cheerful duplicity."

L opted not to point out that Beyond would certainly consider Aleister's visit to his dorm to be duplicitous as well. "It is possible that he was intercepted."

"It is. His enthusiasm for this little venture was quite acute, however, and it is just as likely, if not more so, that he has taken it upon himself to investigate on his own."

"Mm. Yes. I had deduced that that was his motivation for coming here, and considering his usual . . . tenacity, I would put it at a 67% chance that he is investigating the Butcher case alone, and a 19% chance that he has been intercepted while doing so."

A smile touched Aleister's face briefly. "You do realize that your need to break things down into percentages is patently absurd."

"It helps me maintain a logical perspective."

"I know. That's what makes it absurd." Aleister's voice was warm.

L dropped his eyes to see that his fingers were gripping his knees. Consciously relaxing his muscles, he looked back at Aleister, realizing now that he had missed him. "I am sorry."

"Don't."

"I should not have left without speaking to you again. It was –"

"No explanation is required of you," Aleister said airily. "My impulsiveness took me quite by surprise as well, if it's any consolation." He let his jacket slip from his shoulder and come to rest at his side, draping on the floor as he held its collar. His gaze dropped as well, letting go of the sky to grip the ground outside.

L studied his toes as he clenched and unclenched them. "I do miss our conversations. I suppose that we are unlikely to resume them."

A soft chuckle escaped the boy and brought L's head up. Aleister angled a glance his way. "_Now_ who's being overly dramatic?" A half-smile formed, fleeting, ephemeral. "We will no doubt one day be fully capable of conversing without undue awkwardness – perhaps after we have escaped our teens."

A wan smile emerged on L's face. "I look forward to that, assuming I survive mine."

"Well, then I must insist that you survive – my sanity would most certainly be brought into question were I discovered conversing with thin air."

"B will be with you. We will –"

"That's entirely different." Aleister's face went blank, and he turned back to the window again. "He's . . ." A sharp exhalation escaped him. "B is B. You are you. I'd rather like you both to stick around."

Pausing, L watched Aleister. He knew better than to try and mediate anything between the two, considering how vociferously one defended the other. Contemplating the possibility that they had argued, L wondered if Beyond had other goals he had not mentioned to his friend.

"You've no idea what it's like . . ." Aleister's voice was faint, as though he was unaware that he was speaking aloud. "You likely wonder why he and I are friends – or you may as well, seeing as everyone else does."

"It . . . had crossed my mind." L pressed a thumb to his lip.

Aleister's eyes darted to his. "Don't give me _that_ look – we're just friends, ta very much. It's a rough bit of balance between us. We've certainly had our rows, but . . . we do look out for each other. We keep each other's confidences. Yet there are times . . ." For a moment, Aleister's eyes looked haunted. "I'm afraid that if I weren't there to calm him, to help him twig to another perspective, he might burn from within and take us all with him."

_I think so too_, L thought, silent. L rubbed his toes together, choosing his words carefully. "You will be better at this than I am."

"Excuse me?"

Tapping his chin with each point, L stared at the ceiling. "You have a greater capacity for empathy. You think clearly while under duress. You are considerably more adept at social interaction." L met his eyes. "Raw intellect and logic only take one so far in unraveling the actions and reactions of people in order to solve cases."

"I . . . don't possess your strength of will." Aleister's eyes escaped his. "And empathy isn't all sunshine and roses. To identify so strongly with what someone else may feel . . . there is an inexorable pull that takes you out of yourself, warping your very being. A certain balance must be struck –"

"You are strong enough." L interrupted. "Just knowing that gives me confidence."

Aleister shook his head, staring at the floor. "All the same, would you mind terribly not dying?"

A low hum of a laugh tickled L's throat. "I'll try, since you asked so politely." He eyed the bag on his bureau. "Would you like a croissant?"

Laughter began to spill from Aleister, and he tipped his head back. "How is it you're so bloody adept at locating sweets wherever you go?"

L narrowed his eyes in mock anger. "One must adapt quickly to new circumstances to find what is needed. And it's hardly a skill to find a bakery in a large city. If you do not want one –"

"I'd love one, actually." Aleister let his jacket fall to the floor. "It's bound to be loads better than the road fare and junk food on which I've been subsisting."

Stepping off the bed, L snagged the bag, opening it and peering in. "I only purchased a dozen – six raspberry cream cheese, and six chocolate almond." He didn't mention the thirteenth one he'd eaten on his walk back.

"'Only' a dozen – such restraint." Smirking, Aleister reached into the bag as L held it out, finally extracting a confection. "Raspberry. Oh, it smells lovely." Folding his legs under him, Aleister sat cross-legged on his jacket.

L crouched on the floor facing him, taking a chocolate almond one for himself and setting the bag between them. For a minute or two, they munched quietly.

Licking his fingers, L finished his croissant, staring down at the few crumbs that had escaped him. "You deserve better." Surprise jarred him – he had not intended to say it aloud.

"What?"

L rushed his words, staring at his fingers. "I feel certain that you will meet the right person for you in time." Swallowing, he reached into the bag for another treat, the crinkling providing a comforting static to fill the silence.

Aleister smiled at the floor. "No one gets what they deserve, not really. We get what we get, good or bad, and we devise a way to cope. It's _how_ we cope that makes the difference."

"Mm. Then we must do our best to ensure that people _do_ get what they deserve, good and bad, in every instance in which we are able." L chewed thoughtfully.

"I am _not_ arguing with you about justice again."

"I would not characterize our discussions as arguments. I simply –"

"You should call him now." Aleister's blue eyes flashed.

L gulped down the last of his second croissant. "_When_ I call him, it will be to turn you over to him."

"Don't think we don't realize the position Coil's got you in." Aleister angled a cool look L's way. "We can help you."

"I do not require help."

"Don't be so obstinate. You needn't do this on your own. Or are you worried we'll steal your limelight?"

Hand halfway out of the bag with another pastry, L glared at him. "If recognition were my primary concern, I would have made my own announcement and showed Coil up immediately." He took a huge bite of the pastry.

"Ah. Then you consider us incompetent."

L spoke with his mouth full. "I consider you distractions."

"Of all the bloody –" Aleister slapped the now half-eaten croissant out of L's hand. "Fuck you, you arrogant tosser!" Face flushed, he pointed a finger in L's face, seeming to ignore his widening eyes. "Just because you _can_ solve most of these cases on your own doesn't mean you should! It's not always the most efficient way of going about it, is it! We would work better as a _team_. It's not as though you work completely alone in any event, considering who's in town with you, so you can stop that line of so-called reasoning right now. Training us without letting us _do_ anything is completely pointless! And if you're so bloody self-sufficient, then why haven't you solved the case already? It's been weeks – surely the biggest fucking genius on the planet should have solved several cases by now!"

"As it happens, I have solved two other cases since arriving here in Toronto – the one you may recall from Blackpool, and the other in Auckland." L's voice was hushed. "I did not need to be on-site for either of those, and while they were important enough, they were not quite as interesting . . ."

"Oh, I see, so you take your time when you find a case 'interesting'? How comforting that must be for the victims."

"I am not taking my time," L gritted out. "I have collected evidence and made observations, and I _will_ locate and apprehend this murderer."

"It doesn't have to be a competition. If you let us help –"

"It will always be a competition for _him_."

"Well, it isn't one for me! Stop treating us like the fine china! You won't endanger –"

"I have already endangered myself and others!" Breathing hard, L ratcheted his voice down from a near-shout to a growl. "I cannot allow either of you to become endangered by my actions as well. This is not some school trip or a tidy little training exercise. There is a murderer at work here, and frankly, all three of us would be ideal victims for him, given that our identities are essentially untraceable."

"This is hyperbole mated with balderdash. A universal tenet is that _all_ humans are capable of murder, and –"

"You are speaking of abstractions." L cut him off. "Have you ever directly witnessed a murder?"

Aleister blinked. "There was that . . . tape, a few years ago."

"Yes. A recorded event. It was not happening in real time. We were not present in the room as it occurred. Analyzing past events is not the same as reacting to them as they happen. One does not necessarily behave as one might expect . . ." L stared at the floor, trying not to let the flood of memories pull him out of the moment.

"Keeping us sheltered will endanger us more in the long run." Aleister's fingers wrestled themselves. "Without any of this direct experience –"

"It is better to be fully prepared before directly involving oneself. Also, you should not _want_ to do so – the fact that you do proves that you are not yet ready."

For a moment, Aleister was silent, fingers still twisting above the pretzel formed by his legs. "How exactly did you endanger yourself and others, just by the way?"

L considered lying. He considered evading the question. Possibly out of exhaustion, he opted for the truth. "I unintentionally drew the attention of the murderer to a woman I befriended, and then I was brought in for questioning by the police." Several seconds passed, L's own breathing the only sound he could hear. Steeling himself for the inevitable accusation, he gradually raised his eyes. Aleister was staring at him, wordless and pale. "My mistake, my responsibility," L said. I –"

A buzzing sounded from across the room, causing Aleister to jump. Narrowing his eyes, L stood and walked past the window. He had no doubt as to who was calling as he plucked the phone from his desk and lifted it to his ear.

"I take it you –"

"You've been compromised. You must leave immediately."

"Incorrect. If I were to do that, it would lend credence to any false claim associating me with the murderer, which in turn would slow down the case because investigators would expend time and resources to try and find me rather than the Butcher. I must remain in place until the case is solved."

"How did you draw the attention of the murderer to this woman?" Watari's voice was stern.

"I found her cat and returned it to her. You recall the second batch of evidence I sent you to process?" L took Watari's silence for assent. "In retrospect, it would have been better if I had sent you the cat as well."

"Not for the cat."

"Actually, the cat is dead now, so I stand by my statement."

"I see." Watari seemed to sigh. "And the woman?"

"Missing. The police are unsure if her disappearance is related to the case. It is not yet proven that this is the work of the Butcher, but I estimate the likelihood that it is at 71%."

"Hm. The dangers are beginning to outweigh the benefits of your investigating on-site –"

"I can best mitigate the damage I've done by remaining –"

"_Listen_ to me!" Watari's voice boomed over the phone. "I will allow your investigation to continue unimpeded, but if you cause harm to anyone – even unintentionally, and including yourself – or if you are unable to solve it by Christmas break, I will extract you, and you will either have to take another approach or give up the case entirely. Is that understood?"

L could no longer feel the tips of his thumb and forefinger from gripping the phone so tightly. "Yes," he forced out.

"Excellent. Aleister may stay with you for the night, and then –"

"What?"

". . . and then tomorrow you can pass him and Beyond along to me to assist on the case from here."

Knowing he was watching, L struggled to keep his expression neutral. "Why did you change your mind in this regard?"

"Because Aleister has made several good points. You do need help on this, and your misstep with the woman's cat bears that out. No one is usurping your control – you are still the lead investigator. Consider them additional resources."

"Endangering them is unnecessary."

"To be fair, _I_ involved them when I asked them to review photographs and details of the case. If my choice endangered them, that is my responsibility. Once they are with me, I will be able to keep their more . . . disruptive proclivities in check."

"Mm. Do you anticipate matching Roger's success with that?"

"Don't blame poor Roger for the choices they made. He's got a houseful of preternaturally brilliant children – he does quite well, all things considered. For now, keep Aleister with you –"

"Alessandro," L interrupted.

"How fancy." Watari sounded bemused. "Keep him with you and collect Beyond either tonight or tomorrow. And don't worry – I'll find plenty for them both to do. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to speak to 'Alessandro.'"

"Of course." L turned, phone still in his death grip between two fingers as he extended it toward Aleister, who stood to accept it.

"Yes?" Aleister's voice broke, and he blushed, eyes closing.

Bending, L snatched the half-eaten croissant from the floor and tossed it into the wastebasket by the sink. He shuffled over to the bag on the floor and extracted another one, determined to fuel himself, only half-pretending not to listen in as he stood there munching.

"I see. No, I hardly think that . . ." Aleister half-turned to face away from the window, his profile to L. "I expect so. Mm, that's – of course. Honestly, that's better than I was expecting. I . . . understand." Nodding absently, he stared into a distance that was not there. "Those terms are acceptable, yes. Absolutely. I –" He swallowed. "I haven't done since this morning, no, but quite frankly, we needed a bit of a break from one another. Yes. It might be better if you try that. Hm?" Aleister nodded. "Oh, it's the Residence College Inn on Gerard Avenue. If you need the number . . . Ah. Of course. Well, the room number is 113." After a pause, he laughed. "Oh, no. It certainly won't be the first time he'll have threatened to kill me, and I doubt it'll be the last. He'll get over it. Yes. Actually, that sounds lovely. Right. Will do." Pressing the button to terminate the call, he tossed the cellphone to L.

"Locating B should be our first priority," L said, catching it one-handed.

"Actually, 'grandfather' is heading to the hotel right now and he rather insisted that you get me some real food."

L narrowed his eyes. "Did he."

"He did. Call him back if you like." Aleister bent to retrieve his jacket from the floor and shook it out. "Not that the croissants aren't delicious. He mentioned something about stunting my growth . . ."

"Perhaps he is mistaking genetics for nutrition." L scanned the shorter teen.

"Ooh, now we're getting to it." Aleister grinned. "Is this the part where you insult my mother?"

Barely managing to suppress a smile, L looked him in the eye. "Clearly the poor woman has suffered enough."

Their laughter met in the center of the room, though neither boy moved.

Aleister's eyes flicked away from L's and back. "You've changed, you know."

"Hm. Perhaps, though not as much as you." L tilted his head, musing.

"Oh really?" Aleister raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure?"

"A year ago, you would never have considered defying . . . 'grandfather,' let along crossing an ocean to do so. Also, you did not used to drop the F-bomb."

A second passed before Aleister curved forward, laughter spilling out of him. Waving a hand in front of his face as his spine re-straightened, he seemed to take the time to catch his breath before speaking. "And _when_ did you start referring to it as 'the F-bomb'?"

L pressed a thumb to his lip, his eyes slipping toward the ceiling. "Hm. It appears that certain collegiate colloquialisms have insinuated themselves into my vocabulary. Not altogether a bad thing if I am to blend in . . ."

Aleister huffed. "Never blend in. It doesn't suit you. Not to mention that people who try too hard to blend in stand out all the more."

"I doubt that most people would agree with that."

"We aren't most people. And neither are the criminals we chase. Hiding in plain sight is your best approach."

L narrowed his eyes. "Why do I get the impression that you think that I am incapable of blending in, regardless of any effort expended?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Aleister's face was blank.

L sighed. "If you wish to have some 'real' food, we should hurry – the cafeteria will close soon." Lifting the bag of remaining croissants by a corner, he placed it back on the bureau.

"Big spender."

"We need to retain _our_ covers, 'little brother.' Taking to you to an expensive restaurant could draw attention to us, and the cafeteria is more convenient to our location."

"Oh, stop explaining. You've got to learn when someone's teasing you." Aleister threaded his arms through his jacket.

"And you've got to learn when someone is annoying you on purpose." L let another smile slip as he moved to cross the rest of the room, intending to put his phone away.

"You bastard." Aleister lightly punched L's shoulder, giving him an appraising look as L stopped beside him. "Glad you've kept your hair like this. It's still a _bit_ long," he reached up and brushed the fringe from L's forehead, "but not so drastically that you can't see where you're going." Aleister took a step back, eyes scanning the room. "Don't you have a coat?"

"It is not cold enough outside to warrant that." L reached under the bed and replaced his cellphone in its hiding place. Pushing all thought of how Watari's encounter with Beyond might go, he jammed his hands in his pockets and moved past Aleister to the door. "Let's go."

"Well, at least you're more warmly dressed than you were on Saturday night."

L closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, remembering the knot of women with whom Aleister had been chatting in the kitchen earlier. _It could have been worse_, L thought;_ Janine and Danielle could have been among them_. "What _didn't_ they tell you?"

"Oh relax. It's not as though they had any photographic evidence."

Glowering at the door, L wondered how many more unforeseen consequences of his actions would rise up to mock him. "It would be unfortunate for them if they did."

L reached for the door, ready to leave, but more than that, ready for a new phase in the case. Watari's deadline was irrelevant to him, because he already expected – no, _demanded_ of himself – that he solve the case much sooner. September was nearing its end, and no gift would be greater than to have everything wrapped up in time for his birthday. _Bolder moves than mere observation will be required_, L thought. _I must not allow myself to be caught so unaware by circumstance – I must strive to be better at predicting the outcomes of every action, however trivial it might seem at the time_.

L locked the door behind himself and the boy who was as close to a brother as he'd ever had and readied himself for the walk into darkness.

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Author's Note: I feel like it took me a long time to get L and Aleister to have a conversation in this, but I'm glad I've finally gotten to it. And now we know about two of the three non-consensual kisses L's had. Oops. Crushes are awkward. If you're wondering about the "flood of memories" L experiences when discussing murder with Aleister, the details are in my one-shot The Pull. It's by no means required reading, but it's there if you're curious.

The reason you can hear Watari's side of the phone conversation with L and not with Aleister is because this section/chapter is from L's PoV – that's how I'm handling that convention in this fic.

For an upcoming chapter, I am undecided as to whether to keep this fic T-rated or bump it up to M – it would really only be for one scene, so I'm not sure I can justify the change, but I don't know if the rating affects anyone reading this. If I changed it to M, would you still read this? I may put up a poll on my profile, if I can figure out how to do that, just to see what you guys think. In the meantime, you can let me know via a review, if you like.

Thanks for reading!


	10. Rip Current

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

NOTE: **Please vote in the poll on my profile!** I need your input for an upcoming chapter, so I won't be able to finish and post it until I hear from more of you. Thank you!

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_But afterward the townspeople, theretofore sufficiently unfearful of each other to seldom trouble to lock their doors, found fantasy recreating them over and again – those somber explosions that stimulated fires of mistrust in the glare of which many old neighbors viewed each other strangely, and as strangers_.

– excerpt from _In Cold Blood_, Truman Capote

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 10: Rip Current

Their footsteps cracked along the walkway, unbidden electricity, the only intercepting jolt in the resumed silence haunting them. Soon there would be another crush of people, a pressing need to cheerfully pretend, and then an evening of relative seclusion. It could have been everything he'd ever wanted, if not for one or two unfortunate little details. His eyes slid to the slouching figure to his left. For a moment, he dared to hope that their rapport would fully return, banishing all awkwardness, but then he reasoned that some awkwardness would always be present, even if he did not feel as he did, and even if L did not now know at least approximately how he felt.

Aleister sighed. _Bloody hormones_, he thought. Trying to distract himself, he considered the case again, another question bubbling to the surface. "One thing I don't quite understand . . . if you found the cat where you showed me, near the footpath to the cafeteria, how can you be sure it connects to the case when all the parts were dropped off well away from there, closer to the hospital?"

"Well, the cat could have found its 'prize' and carried it to a more defensible location. We'll know soon if the bone matches any of the Butcher's drops. Also, it is highly likely that the murderer is choosing his drop-off locations with the intention of leading investigators away from his true base of operations." L stared straight ahead, seeming to focus on things past his vision.

"Hm. Is it too obvious to surmise that the murderer might be operating out of the cafeteria, or another of the buildings there?" Aleister placed a hand over his belly. "The very notion of which makes me queasy, by the by."

"Why?" L quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did the ham taste especially human?"

"Ugh – stop that. And well done for reminding me of Beyond."

A scowl took L's face briefly before he looked away. "I would hope that you could tell the difference."

"Obviously I can, hence my utter shock at such a question springing from _your_ lips." Cringing inwardly at even mentioning L's lips, Aleister shook his hair and focused his attention on the path as they walked.

The detour they'd taken after dinner had proven a welcome respite from Aleister's inner turmoil. L had calmly walked him around campus, pointing out different school buildings as well as every location relating to the case. He wondered if Beyond's uncharitable assessment had been right, that L would not be so forthcoming had Beyond been present. Aleister knew that Beyond thought L felt threatened by him, which made Beyond want to "win" even more. It seemed to Aleister, however, that L's reaction to Beyond had always been simple dislike. Having known and observed them both for years, he'd never seen L truly engage Beyond in competition, as if L might believe that Beyond was too flawed for any victory over him to have any value. Yet it was only an impression, one he hoped was untrue, and as such, Aleister kept it to himself, acknowledging that, accurate or not, it would not help Beyond to know it. He wondered how long he could keep the charade up, taking information from L with the intention of relaying it all to Beyond, so that they could start from the same point in the investigation and would have a fighting chance of solving it themselves, proving their value as more than mere successors. _Even if we're too contentious a bunch to work as a team_, Aleister thought, _it would make far more sense for us all to work on cases simultaneously – it's silly to have just one of us out there with the rest of us waiting in line_.

Three girls passed by them, stepping off the path to do so, their whispering a mimicry of leaves tossed on wind, their eyes darting to the creature of contrasts beside him. L had been getting looks – some surreptitious, some not – all evening from students and university staff alike, and it occasionally seemed to make him nervous, though most observers likely saw only the blank exterior and not the rapid glances or the fists clenching in pockets. Aleister wondered what it was like for him, and if L would ever acclimate to the apparently unwelcome attention others paid to him.

Aleister hated his own 'mousy-blah' looks – the sharp little nose and chin, the dishwater hair, the babyish curve to his cheeks, the short stature, his complete and utter ordinariness. Though he knew that his relative blandness helped him to blend in more easily, deflecting attention from himself and helpfully disarming strangers, he loathed it anyway, wishing he stood out somehow, wishing he didn't feel so invisible. But he refused to sully his average appearance in order to resemble anyone else for anything other than a temporary disguise. He suppressed a frown, thinking of the ways in which Beyond had taken it upon himself within the past year to alter his appearance to resemble L's.

At first, Aleister had thought that Beyond was doing it to mock him and his crush on L, but he was beginning to wonder if Beyond believed that he could speed his inheritance of L's role by becoming a visual simulacrum. Beyond had grown his hair out to the same length as L's, starting habitually slouching – Aleister had once caught him pressing his thumbs into the tender flesh under his eyes in an attempt to raise the bruise-like bluishness that always seemed to fall like shadows over L's face.

L himself seemed deep in thought as Aleister glanced over at him. _Never happen_, Aleister thought; _looking like him, being him . . . none of us could be a true replacement, and I'm the only one not too daft to see that_. _We're all different – even if we succeed him in his role rather than operating independently, how we take it on would be different as well_. An image of Beyond flashed in Aleister's head from just before he'd left the hotel room in sullen silence. He was as tall as L now, but given his age, he was likely to shoot past the older teen in a few years. His hair might be the same cut and length, and a similar hue, but it didn't stick up, hanging smooth and straight against his neck and face. Beyond's facial features, however, were his true undoing. His broad brow jutted forward, adorned with thick, dark eyebrows, and his eyes bulged yet remained half-lidded almost all of the time. The rectangular shape to his face, the mole under his left ear, the prominent Roman nose, the full lips that stretched wide across his face in that disquieting smile – even if Beyond's skin had been milky rather than olive-toned, he would still need a surgeon if he really wanted to pass for L. Aleister shuddered at the thought of Beyond willingly butchering his natural features just to match the look of a person whose appearance was meant to be kept secret anyway. _It's a phase_, he thought; _he'll get over it soon enough_.

The dorm loomed before them, and as Aleister and L walked along, a few students dashed through the doors ahead of them.

"It is nearly time for the news – we should be able to view it with the others, though we may have to stand at this point." Something in L's voice made him sound especially tired.

"I'm surprised you don't have your own telly."

"I am still considering acquiring one, but it is sometimes useful to observe the reactions of others to new information." L dragged open the entry door and used his student keycard to open the internal door. Noise from the TV room washed over the lobby as they entered and turned to meet the tide head-on.

The room was certainly full – Aleister couldn't see a single spot for them to squeeze in and see the TV screen, but L shouldered his way through to the back wall. Reaching a space not quite wide enough for a person, L turned and backed into it, wedging himself between a tall girl with red curly hair and a lip piercing and a thin boy with glasses and a fade. Aleister put a hand on his hip, wondering if L expected him to shove people aside as well.

"If you stand in front of me, I should be able to see past you," L said, face blank.

"Not if you slouch like that, you won't." Aleister shook his head. "And stop teasing me about my height. It's crass and childish."

"If you say so, little brother."

Reluctantly, Aleister moved to stand in front of L. _And he's got no bloody idea what he's doing to me right now_, he thought, trying not to back up too far. _If he touches me or I feel his breath on my neck, oi_ . . . For a moment, Aleister shut his eyes, fists clenched, blocking everything out.

The painfully obvious news theme started up, and the ambient conversation in the room peaked in volume before dropping away to nearly nothing. Aleister opened his eyes.

"Getting right to our top story, the Missing Parts Killer continues to terrorize the Toronto area. As we reported earlier today, two body parts were dropped this morning, sometime before dawn, and we have now confirmed that these parts were a hand and a stomach. The police are optimistic that at least one of these victims could be found alive, and they are conducting city-wide searches for them as well as other victims. They are continuing to work with detective Eraldo Coil on leads, and for those of you who missed it, here is the announcement Coil made this morning."

A knuckle brushed against Aleister's back as L's hand moved upward, making Aleister jump. He could picture L holding his hand to his mouth as was his habit. The Coil announcement played, causing some students to murmur over it, giving the impression that they'd already seen it, just as Aleister had. He wondered if L had seen it, and if L would be angry that Aleister hadn't mentioned it to him. He felt the huff on the back of his neck as L exhaled in apparent annoyance at the conclusion of the announcement, and he closed his eyes, swallowing. _Steady on, lad_, he thought.

"Following the announcement, police have brought a number of suspects in for questioning." Concurrent with the second part of the newswoman's sentence, a video was shown of L in handcuffs, head down, his face hidden, being led into the police station.

Aleister detected movement behind him, but couldn't tell if it was L or someone else. The rising murmur in the room threatened to drown out the newswoman as several students turned, wide-eyed or frowning, toward the one who stood behind him. Unsure how to respond, Aleister mustered his best reproving expression and returned his attention back to the newscast, waiting for an indication on how to proceed from L.

". . . while the Chief of Police has encouraged people to continue to go about their business. In international news . . ."

"Dude, that was you." The voice, low and threatening, came from behind Aleister, and when he turned, he was surprised to see that it was the woman next to L who was speaking.

"Yes, I did speak to the police today . . ." L's tone was low and emotionless, but it seemed that most people in the room were paying attention to him. Confirming this suspicion, the volume of the TV dropped noticeably.

"Speak to them? Hell, they had you _handcuffed_. They only do that to suspects." The woman's eyes were narrowed, and her muscles flexed.

"The police are under tremendous pressure to solve this case. Putting me in handcuffs was merely a precaution." L seemed calm, but the usual dilation of his pupils had diminished, showing the grey of his irises.

_This is a terrible time to be aloof, you fool!_ Aleister thought, rapidly devising a way to help L seem less suspicious. "Leave him alone. You've no idea what he's been through."

"Alessandro, please . . ." L's eyes shot him a warning.

"No, I won't keep quiet! You've been through the ringer with these bastards! The police repaid your help with suspicion, even after the trauma of what you witnessed. They've been trying to pin this on a med student for months now, and when you tried to help them . . . Well, it just goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished."

"So what'd he see then?" The woman addressed Aleister.

"The police won't let him tell anyone! Don't you think I want to know the details too? I'm his brother!"

"You don't sound like it."

"I was eight when I was adopted, thank you, and I was bloody well not changing my accent just to match the rest of the family." Aleister was breathing more rapidly than he wanted and fought to control it, feeling several eyes on him. "Ezekiel has suffered enough today. He wants this murderer caught just as much as you, despite the machinations of an overzealous police force and a misguided news media."

"Then why doesn't he say so?"

"Because I am waiting for my little brother to shut up," L said coolly. "I love him dearly, but he talks too much."

"Leigh Ann's right, Zeke." Danielle's voice cut across the room, her green eyes flashing. "You should speak for yourself."

Aleister watched L's eyes lance back at the blonde, pupils dilating again. "And I am doing so." His voice rose slightly. "I was specifically instructed by the police not to tell anyone what I witnessed. No amount of pointless recrimination will persuade me to go against my word. However I may have been treated," L's eyes darted to Aleister's and away, "I refuse to jeopardize the solution of this case." L pushed off from the wall, forcing Aleister to dodge backwards as he shouldered past. "Believe what you like. _I_ believe that the murderer will be caught soon."

Stepping around the other residents, most of whom were staring openly at them now, Aleister struggled to keep pace with L, who was making a beeline for the elevators. _At least his behavior is lending credence to the spin we've placed on this_, he thought, arriving at L's side just as they elevator dinged its arrival. Metal doors slid aside, and they both stepped through as one.

"Don't you think –"

"Not here." L tersely cut him off, staring straight ahead.

Though there might be a security camera in the elevator, Aleister doubted that it was bugged as well, but he kept quiet as requested. It was a stretch to think that someone might read their lips on any footage. _But there can't be a camera in here_, Aleister thought; _Watari wouldn't have allowed it to remain_. Aleister was still puzzling over this when the elevator dithered and came to a stop, doors opening, the two of them walking, entering the relative safety of L's room once more.

"What did you think you were doing?" L's eyes were on him from the center of the room.

"Defending my big brother, obviously." Aleister's kept his tone light. "Why –"

"Did you have a single thought in your head before you spoke?"

Aleister reared back. "I – yes, several, actually, up to and including the fact that your behavior was doing absolutely nothing to belay anyone's suspicions of you!"

"My behavior was well in line with the role in which I have immersed myself here." L's tone was clipped.

"Oh yes, your 'role' – well, how convenient that your role involves you behaving as you always do." Aleister tossed his hair.

"Given the potential duration of this case, it was essential that I not choose a mode of behavior that was too unnatural for me." L's cheeks pinked slightly. "I suppose you would have me bare-chested in a Fabio wig reciting poetry in Italian, perhaps throwing in the occasional epileptic fit to elicit sympathy?"

"Absolutely – Fabio is so _clearly_ my type." Aleister's fists clenched. "But no need to mime flopping about for sympathy. Taking your shirt off would be quite enough to induce that." He watched L's face twist. "You're missing the _point_. When you act as you do at home, _we_ know you, we know that you're brilliant and odd and a fucking pain in the arse with a sugar addiction, but we all know that you're not a murderer! These people don't! And when you act so bloody disaffected in response to an accusation, it raises suspicion of you!"

For a few moments, there was only the sound of their breathing. Golden light from the lamp on the bureau threw their shadows across the floor, darkness stretching toward the window as if trying to join the night outside. Pale again, L seemed calmer. Their eyes locked together, Aleister wondered if L was going to respond at all as he fought to rein himself in.

"So, when you spoke, you presumed that I had not thought of any of these things?"

"I looked to you for a signal, and I received none," Aleister ground out. "Had you given me any indication of what –"

"This is not a partnership." L continued to stare. "By coming here, you and B are disrupting my work. I would have thought that you would at least understand the need to follow my lead, whether I gave you a 'signal' or not."

"There was no lead to follow!" Aleister raised his eyes to the ceiling. "You were floundering and you know it. I behaved as best befit my role as your apparently effusive little brother. And as to our 'disruption' . . ." He met L's eyes again. "_We_ didn't attract the attention of the police and have them haul you in. You did that all on your own." Aleister pushed past L to stand at the window, thumbs pressed flat against the sill as he looked out. He wondered what Beyond was doing, and if he'd managed to evade Watari. He wondered if he'd made a mistake in visiting L.

"You are correct. I was sloppy, and I drew the attention of the police to myself, much as I drew the attention of the murderer to Gellie, another debt I now owe." The bent form of L was just visible in the window's reflection. "But I was not floundering. This scenario was among those which I had considered possible. My response was planned."

"Really? What was the plan then? Gape like a fish until they started lighting torches?"

"My plan was to behave as though frightened by their accusations, and then to break down and tell them everything." There was an undertone of despondency to L's voice.

"You – what? _Everything?_" Aleister looked back over his shoulder. "You actually intended to tell them the truth?"

"Yes." L glanced at him sidelong. "It was the simplest solution. Mentioning that the police have unfairly targeted medical students was the only part of what you said that would have been included in my statement. I would have preferred it if you had remained quiet. Now . . . I will have to incorporate your lie about my having witnessed something into my approach and hope that the truth does not emerge before the case is solved."

"But everything . . . you didn't intend to reveal your true –"

"No, of course not. It would be foolish to blow my cover. But I would have told them everything about my encounter with Gellie and her cat, including what I saw at the crime scene this morning. Gauging their reactions to my statement could have given me some clues to indicate whether anyone here is involved . . ."

"Wait – I thought you said that med students were being unfairly targeted."

"I did, and they are. However, this does not mean that the murderer is not among them. It is also possible that one of them might be an accomplice, or may have seen something that would reveal the murderer without realizing its significance. I must examine all possibilities."

Aleister rested his forehead on the cool windowpane. "Well . . . fuck." He heard L sigh behind him. "I'm sorry. I panicked. You really did look frightened when I turned round."

"Thank you. Some of that was genuine, given the crowd." There was a shuffling sound as L removed his shoes. "I should have calculated the effect my reactions might have had on you."

"And I should have given you more credit." Aleister turned from the window, one hand still on the sill. "Out of curiosity, what were you on about with that whole Fabio thing?"

"Hm? Oh . . . I suppose I was trying to conjure the most ridiculous image of myself 'under cover' as possible."

"Ah. Well done on that, then. I was afraid you somehow thought I might find the image appealing because I'm gay."

L tilted his head. "How ludicrous. Sexual orientation does not determine individual taste. I did not think that you would be attracted to a person in such a disguise as described – nor would I expect Watari to be, for that matter."

"Lovely, now you've got me picturing Roger bare-chested in a long blond wig."

Aleister and L stared at each other and then burst out laughing, leaning into it, faces stretching, the sound clapping back at them. It was rare for L to laugh full-throated – normally it was that low thrum at the back of his throat, which was rare enough. Aleister had only heard the full laugh from him twice before now, one of those times while eavesdropping, but that made it all the more special to be privy to it. Grin still plastering his face, L moved past Aleister toward the computer, reaching out at the last minute to tousle his hair.

"Hey!" Aleister dodged, far too late.

"Sorry," L said, not sounding sorry at all. "I have always wanted to do that."

Aleister felt his cheeks burning but was undecided as to which was the stronger feeling: anger, embarrassment, or attraction. As he watched L bend to reach under the bed, he knew which one was winning out. "This would all be much easier if you weren't so bloody gorgeous."

L swung his torso to stand up straighter than Aleister had ever seen him, his brow furrowed as he turned. "I'm . . . That's not –" L shook his head, resuming his usual posture. "That's insane."

"So now I'm insane, am I?" Aleister arched an eyebrow.

"No, it's just . . ." L drew his hand from forehead to chin, only the thumb and forefinger making contact. "I cannot comprehend why anyone would find me attractive. It is completely preposterous."

"That only means you're not your own type. Now stop insulting my taste and get on with it." Aleister flipped a hand in his direction, amused to note that L was arching an eyebrow right back at him. "Or were you not about to report in with 'grandfather'? I can only imagine what he's thought of our conversation to this point . . ."

"I am sure that he will make his opinion known." The droll tone was somehow at odds with L's newly blank face as he speed-dialed Watari.

Aleister really hadn't believed that coming to Toronto with Beyond would imperil L, but now it worried him. It was strange to think of L being in more danger from the police than from a murderer, and the possibility that L could become caught between them filled him with dread. _He says he owes a debt_, Aleister thought, _but I owe him one too_. _I will find a way to protect him, whether he solves the case or we do_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: Oops. At least L's face wasn't on camera. And being able to laugh to relieve tension is a good thing, even if it is at poor Roger's expense. ^_^ It remains to be seen if any of Aleister's and Beyond's plans come to fruition, mwahaha.

The idea that Beyond would look identical to L always irked me, so in my interpretation of the character I've tossed that notion out. I think it's more interesting if Beyond is trying to mimic L mainly to annoy him rather than genuinely pass for him. In my head, Beyond looks like a strange cross between Benicio del Toro and Willem Dafoe.

The poll has been up on my profile for a little while now, so please check it out and vote for whether you want this fic to stay rated T or change to rated M. If you've already voted (or not) and want to tell me _why_ you think this fic should either stay with its rating or change, then please tell me in a review or a message. Pretty please with L's entire supply of sugar on top? I appreciate any feedback you can give me.

Thanks for reading!


	11. Darker Waters

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 11: Darker Waters

_I cannot imagine a state of affairs more delicious! But oh, for the puppy, it is indeed pernicious. He seems to like the taste of blood . . . but wait – ha ha, he is playing with me. Ripe and raw and ruthless, the puppy bites, but I will housebreak you yet. You will be more than my pet, my guest. You will be part of my canvas, my vision, my manifesto! The honor is indeed mine. Pity you showed up too late to be 12, but no matter. 18 is noble enough_.

_Ah, and there it is – I see that you see it now! Yes, yes, your dark eyes are conduits to my own . . . a jump and a jolt and I can feel you squirming inside me, swallowed whole, my living eucharist. It's true, it's true, die we all do, but to tell me so soon feels like a lie. Your scolding bravado is honey in my ear, yet it would do you well to let go of your fear. I have a steady hand, when I want to, and oh, oh, I want to. Be still, and know that I __**do**__, for I will be delicate with you, my pretty little prince, my prize so wise. You are wondering what I'll take. I am wondering what mistake led you to me – not mine, but yours or his. Perhaps your precious pawn will take my place when the time comes to reveal the hound's true face_.

_Such a pretty pretty froth at your lips, pink as punch. Do not worry, my pet. I will temper your pain, if not your temper. Such a pelt I could make of you, that thick ruff a gift to me, and no one would know . . . But the ties that bind are not unkind. Once I begin, you will see your inner beauty emerge! Stay strong, and you will see it all – you will understand, as I do, what it means to be a flower in full bloom, red and pulsing in my hands_.

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_Teeth and claws, and black, black wings above, he falls, its shadow cooling the ground around him, and he looks up to see its gaping, jagged maw descend to the sound of shattering crystal_ . . .

"Shinigami!"

It registered, after a moment, that he was clutching his bedcovers in a room well-lit by daylight. There was a boy staring at him from the foot of his bed, and his mouth felt lined in parchment. "How long was I asleep?" he croaked.

"Nearly eight hours, to my surprise and delight. You slept quite soundly until, well, now, actually."

Fisting his eyes, L fought the urge to growl. "I need –"

"Coffee." Aleister finished for him. "I know. I expect the pot I just brewed may have had some effect on your relative wakefulness, though what that might have to do with a Japanese grim reaper, I don't know." He turned back to the computer. "You didn't miss anything, by the way."

"Mph." L swung his feet out of bed, toes pressing against the cool floor as he rubbed his scalp, roughly mussing his already wild hair. Some of the feeling was returning to his right arm, with the inevitable sensation of pins and needles poking all along it, and he wondered if he'd slept the whole night curled up on that side.

"Shall I pour you a cup?"

"Mm . . . no. I'll do it." L didn't mind sleeping when he was able, not really, but he disliked wasting time he could otherwise spend working or learning. He wasn't fond of the nightmares, though they didn't happen every time he slept. What L hated was waking up – the grogginess, the gunk in his eyes, the horrible taste in his mouth, and, worst of all, the overwhelming desire to just stay asleep and never get up. It felt easier to simply stay awake than it would to fight his way to wakefulness every single morning, so he considered himself blessed rather than afflicted with insomnia.

A bug-eyed black cat loomed into his field of vision, and L jerked back, blinking. "What . . . where did you get that?" Hesitantly, he reached for the Felix the Cat mug and held it with both hands, fingertips pressed to hot porcelain.

"At the top of the closet. If you didn't bring it, it must have been left behind. And I _washed_ it thoroughly!" Aleister said into L's widening eyes.

"Understood." L stared into the dark liquid. "Did you sweeten it?"

"Not as much as you would do, but you need the caffeine more. _Drink_ it – then you can sugar up the next one as much as you like." Aleister walked back toward the computer.

L felt his face pulling into a pout and suppressed it with some effort. Taking a sip, he wrinkled his nose. He could cope with a burned tongue, but "You didn't sweeten it at all, did you?"

Aleister smirked at him. "I did say 'not as much' rather than how much. Just drink it down. If you want something sweet," he reached out of sight at the end of the bed, and L heard rustling, "have some of these."

A packet of cookies landed next to L. "French Crème?"

"They're quite good." Aleister continued to scan through the video feeds.

Dislodging some cookies from the packet with two fingers, L dunked the speckled, crusty disks into his black coffee and crunched away. He vaguely remembered his last conversation before succumbing to the indignity of sleep:

"I don't care if you have to do it upside down, dangling by your toes from the ceiling – you _will_ get some sleep!" Aleister had scolded. "You look awful, and you are still human and thus in need of rest occasionally."

"You cannot force me to sleep." L had tried to stand his ground.

"I actually got a full night last night, so I am prepared to stay up, and if you do _not_ go to sleep, I will speak, at length, about every musical starting with Rogers and Hammerstein all the way through Andrew Lloyd Weber, and I _will_ sing every song I can recall, and in addition, I will explain plots unnecessarily, and then –"

"Why must you torture me?"

"Stop torturing yourself and get some sleep!" Aleister had glared at L, unrelenting. "We need you at your best. _I_ will watch the feeds until morning."

And that had been that. It was a marvel to L that one person could simultaneously infuriate him and fill him with affection. _I am lucky that I do not feel a sexual attraction to him as well_, he thought; _I might be completely incapable of clear thought otherwise_.

Slurping the last of his crumbs-and-coffee sludge, L pushed off the bed to stand and took the scant few steps to the bureau where the coffeepot and its contents were waiting. He poured more of the hot liquid into the mug. Opening what ostensibly would have been a sock drawer, he extracted one of the bags of sugar and proceeded to drop several cubes in.

"I didn't find any other cups. What have you been drinking coffee from?"

L took a sip and added two more cubes. "The pot. I saw no need to have another dish to dirty, since I was the only one using it."

Aleister was shaking his head. "Honestly, without someone to look after you, you're like a caveman."

"Mm. Yes. Electric coffeepots were quite common during the Pleistocene." L rolled his eyes, tossing a few sugarcubes directly into his mouth before resealing the bag and placing it back in the drawer. Bare feet dragging the floor, he approached the window and looked out. His predicament still annoyed him, though he was trying to push past that. _There is no point in allowing altered circumstances to distract me_, he thought; _I must adjust and proceed_.

When he had spoken to Watari for the second time last evening, L was pleased to hear that his fingerprints at the Toronto police station had been successfully altered, but he had been vexed to learn that the man had already confiscated the news footage of L from the network that had aired it and prevented it from being copied or sent anywhere else. He'd told Watari that such action had been unnecessary and could draw undue attention to him, but the deed was already done. L simply had to hope that Coil wouldn't find out and pinpoint him as a result. The two detectives had never met face-to-face, and L wanted to keep it that way. Their rivalry was purely professional, and there was more to be lost than gained by revealing themselves to each other personally. At least a TV was now on its way so that L could watch the news unobserved.

"Why . . . shinigami?"

"Hm?" L turned to Aleister, who glanced up at him with bloodshot eyes. "Oh. My grandmother used to tell me stories when I was young, and one particular evening, she told me one involving the mythical Japanese death god – a creature initially mentioned in the _Picture Book of a Thousand Stories_ from 1841, and thus not part of traditional Japanese myth, but I digress. The story she told me was not significantly more disquieting than the others she relayed to me, but unbeknownst to both of us, I was on the verge of developing a fever at the time. My illness manifested overnight and fueled some . . . rather memorable nightmares. They still occasionally recur, but they are nothing to be concerned about."

"Are you certain of that?"

"I am." L sipped his sugar-laden coffee. "Fractured dreams of mythical monsters cannot compare to the monstrous things some humans do to others."

"Fair point." Aleister's face stretched into a yawn, which he hurried to cover with the back of a hand. "I've no idea how you manage to do this on a regular basis."

On the path below, several students hurried in various directions. L found himself wishing that he really was just a regular student, able to focus on his coursework alone, but he knew that he would never be satisfied with that, even if he didn't have debts to pay or balance to strike. Soon, he'd be headed to class himself, and he would learn what was available to be learned, but his focus, as always, would be on the case.

L drained the last of his coffee. "What will you say to B?"

Aleister snorted. "Haven't worked that bit out yet. He won't come willingly, I know that much. I'm not at all surprised that he managed to be conveniently absent from the hotel last night. I'll just have to find a way to make it seem as though our joining forces with Watari was his idea."

"Hm. You've got your work cut out for you."

"I really do."

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His feet ached to be rid of his sneakers – more so than usual. Slouching along as the beaten, rubbery things capping the ends of his legs rasped over concrete, he noticed a small group tossing a Frisbee, bare feet on green grass, and felt a spike of envy. L refocused himself. He'd just finished an early supper of pie and ice cream, pockets stuffed with cookies for later, and was set on doing his own monitoring tonight. He hoped his vigilance would be rewarded with results.

"Whoa – heads up, man!"

L turned in time to see an orange blur zooming toward his face. Reacting instinctively, he dodged aside and made a last-minute grab, realizing mid-step what it was, spinning once to absorb the momentum of the object.

"Nice catch, Ezekiel!" Guy's voice boomed over the quad. "Throw it back to Ahmed!"

Following Guy's gesture, he saw the dark-haired man in a red-striped shirt wave in the distance. L briefly considered dropping the Frisbee to the ground at his feet, but he recognized that he could not afford to sow any additional ill will among the students. Recalling his observations of previous Frisbee-throwing, he gripped the plastic disk in thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward, curling his arm, and flung it. The orange blur sailed high over the grass, heading right to Ahmed but curving off at the last moment, forcing Ahmed to run after it. L frowned.

"Good one!" Guy was grinning.

"That was terrible," L replied. "I should have compensated more for the spin."

"Hey, it's no problem. Running for it is half the fun. And Ahmed could use the exercise!" Guy shouted the last sentence at his friend across the field and laughed as Ahmed flipped him off. "Why don't you join us for awhile?"

"There is nothing I would like better," L said, wishing his lie sounded more convincing, "but I must finish a paper tonight."

"Ah, you work too hard, man." Guy shook his head, dreads swinging, smile undimmed.

"I am not sure that is possible." L nodded once and turned to go.

"Catch you later!"

Shuffled steps and shuffling thoughts made the remaining journey to his dorm room seem short. Bright sun warmed him, baking his back, and a cool breeze caused his hair to tease his brow. The inside of the dorm seemed stuffy by comparison, but he paid it no mind. L wondered which of his options seemed the least insane: taking a night excursion to find the Butcher's lair, contacting authorities and announcing his involvement after all, or posing as the murderer himself to draw the real murderer out. He knew which option Watari would like the least and was tempted to choose it for that reason alone, but he was determined not to make an emotional decision. These warring ideas on what to do were still wrestling in his head when he emerged on the sixth floor to behold Aleister struggling to slide a large box down the hall.

"Why are you still here?"

"Well," Aleister straightened up, breathing hard, and turned to meet L's eye, "lovely to see you too. Mind giving me a hand with _your_ telly?"

"But you were doing so well." L tilted his head, barely suppressing a smirk.

"Right then. I'll just leave it here for any takers, shall I?" Aleister gestured wide, palms open.

"Perhaps if we work together . . ."

"Ooh, there's a thought."

L approached the box. "If you move to the other side and lift up just a bit, I can push without it catching on the carpet as much."

"Not sure I can really lift it . . ." Aleister moved to the opposite side.

"Well, you'd only have to tilt it toward me slightly. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Now." L bent and pushed forward against the bottom half of the box as Aleister gripped the top corners on the other side and backpedaled as the box slid along. With a minimum of shoving and grunting, they managed to get it in through L's door. After a few moments catching their breaths as they stood over the box, L realized that Aleister had never answered his question.

"So why are –"

"Why is the hall carpeted but it's bare floor in here?" Still flushed from the effort, Aleister seemed affronted by the apparent discrepancy in décor.

"Higher traffic areas require greater protection from wear and tear. Now, what is the reason for your being here?"

Meeting his eyes, Aleister sighed, clouds seeming to flit over the blue of his own. "He's not been back. Based on the way the room's been left . . . I'd say your 'interception' theory has been lent some credence. There are a number of things he'd have taken with him if he was going out for more than the odd jaunt."

"Are you certain?"

"Quite. And don't give me that look – this was no part of any plan we had." Aleister scowled, looking away.

Not entirely convinced, L opted to let it go anyway. "Do you think that he might be upset with you for staying away all last evening?"

"That's just it – he _would_ have been upset. But he'd obviously not been back to the room since I'd left. No recriminating notes, no booby traps – nothing to indicate he knew I'd been away. And leaving the room as-is to make me worry is far too subtle for him. Granted, the hotel staff made up the beds and took the trash, but everything else was left the same."

"And what was grandfather's assessment?"

"When he joined me there, he noticed some broken branches on the shrubs outside the building that indicated someone might have been peeking in at us – hazards of being on the ground floor." Aleister folded his arms. "Nothing conclusive enough at the scene to be sure of that, though we took samples just the same. We've paid through the week and rigged the hotel room with cameras and bugs just in case he, or anyone else, goes back there. I've taken some of my belongings out, but we've left our luggage and whatnot there so the room still looks occupied."

"I see."

"I'm to stay with you until we find him."

L exhaled, deflating, thumb and forefinger pinching his nose. "Wonderful."

"So good to feel welcome. Thank you _so_ much –"

"Please don't do that."

"Do what? Feel?"

"Be angry. It is not your company that I object to, it is the danger that you are in by remaining here."

"That's rather the objection 'grandfather' has to _your _being here, as it happens."

L narrowed his eyes. "Of course." He glared into a ceiling corner where he knew a camera was focused on them. "Placing him in danger will not convince me to leave any sooner than your deadline."

"What are you on ab— oh." Seeming to realize who L was addressing, Aleister broke off, swallowing.

L sighed. "It appears that you and I will be working together for a bit longer, little brother."

"Think you can stand it?" The playful lilt found its way back into Aleister's voice.

"I'll manage. Though you may be clamoring to leave sooner than you think." Scanning the room for a suitable implement to open the TV box, L wondered if Beyond had intended to abandon Aleister all along, and if Aleister had truly been unaware of it.

"I'm far more stubborn than you know."

L held Aleister's gaze. "We will find him. And if he is missing or harmed as a result of encountering the Butcher . . ." he swallowed, eyes flashing, "I'll more than bring him to justice."

"Careful. Raw punishment would just put us on parity with the murderers themselves. I've no doubt we'll find him, wherever he's got to, but we should not have to subvert justice to do so."

"It is naïve to assume that justice can be done without punishment. And I did not say that I would kill the murderer. Whether B has been taken by him or not, odds are I will let the police handle the Butcher. What I meant –"

"And if the police kill him?" Aleister raised an eyebrow.

"I expect it's no worse than if he were to be executed – more expedient, actually."

"You really believe that? You think that's justice?"

"Justice occurs when people are held responsible for their actions against others, an imposed consequence to balance wrongdoing."

"No! That's not it at all!" Aleister gaped at him. "To administer justice, one must empathize with those involved in order to determine the appropriate response. One must understand _why_ things happened the way they did and exhibit kindness, not just to the victims, but to the perpetrators as well. Justice without kindness is no justice at all! Kindness is at the very _heart_ of justice. When people throw themselves on the mercy of the court, mercy must be there or the court is a sham!"

"I am not a part of the court system, I –"

"Well, how very convenient for you. Do me a favor, if you please, and don't use the word justice if you can't even grasp its meaning. Call it what it really is. Because justice without kindness is simply vengeance. And letting someone die when you could have prevented it, even a murderer, makes you a murderer yourself."

L broke eye contact to stare instead at the box. Numbly, he began to pry at the cardboard with his fingers. "I was wrong."

"Glad to hear you say so."

"You will not be better at this than I am."

A pall fell over the room as L worked quietly, Aleister eventually moving over to help extract the TV. They set it up on the floor, avoiding each other's eyes, not agreeing to disagree so much as agreeing not to rehash their disagreement, their silence saying more than the words that fought in their heads.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: I always wondered why the hell L would fall out of his chair at the mention on shinigami in canon (other than the authors merely wanting him to fall on his butt, as they said), so I gave him some grandma-storytelling-fueled nightmares. Woo backstory. And the _Picture Book of a Thousand Stories_ does exist and appears to be the first mention in Japan of shinigami – I figured it would be a weird nitpicky detail L would know.

Before I even started this fic, I imagined L and A arguing about the nature of justice and disagreeing rather vociferously. Whether L means it or not when he says it to Naomi Misora in Another Note, I decided that he got the idea that kindness was an inherent part of justice from Aleister.

I'll stop bugging you guys about this soon, but . . . if you haven't voted in my poll yet, please go to my profile and let me know if you want this fic to stay T-rated or change to M-rated! You can tell me _why_ you think this fic should either stay with its rating or change in a review or a message. I'll leave the poll open for a bit longer, but I will be closing it eventually as I approach the completion of the first affected chapter in question. Any feedback you can give me will be appreciated.

Thanks for reading!


	12. Surface Tension

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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_Never even have to say a word_

_That's the best thing that I ever heard_

_You have left a fingerprint on me_

_Just dust and then you'll surely see_

_I've got my reservations_

_And I hate my generation_

– excerpt from "I Hate My Generation", Sloan

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 12: Surface Tension

A long walk on a sunny day had put a spring back in his step despite the storm clouds raging behind his eyes. He felt as though no progress had been made, or would be made, and he tried to tell himself that it had only been a few days. There was still time to turn things around, to circumvent what seemed inevitable. _But Beyond wasn't supposed to have been gone for this long_, he thought. _I should have gotten a message from him by now – he'd want to know what I've learned from L so we can make our next move_. _Could he really have gotten into trouble?_ As he set the bag of apples and bananas down in the room, hoping they hadn't bruised, Aleister recalled an invitation he'd received two days before and headed to the kitchen to collect.

The hall was oddly quiet. Aleister supposed that it was too soon for dinner for most and that enough classes were still in session for the dorm to be mostly vacant. Part of him wanted to explore, to test out some of the lock-picking skills he'd learned from Beyond, possibly discovering case-related evidence in the process, but he knew such an idea was reckless. Without knowing where to look, his search would be too haphazard, and the odds of everyone being absent were low – not to mention, there were some things he'd rather not walk in on.

Entering the kitchen, Aleister saw that someone had the fridge door open – bent hips, jeans-clad, were visible just past the edge of it. For a moment, he considered backing out and leaving, but then the fridge door was shutting and brown eyes behind glasses were meeting his.

"Oh, I . . . hi."

"Nice to see you . . . Janine, isn't it?"

"Yeah." She nodded, dropping her eyes, container of blueberry yogurt in one hand.

"Alessandro," Aleister said, extending his hand. "We . . . sort of met earlier this week."

"I remember you from, uh, Sunday night." Janine took his hand loosely, her fingers cool, shaking once and dropping it.

"Well yes, _that_, but . . . we were in the laundry room on Monday."

"Oh! Oh god, I think I blocked that out." Janine blushed. "I mean, um . . ."

Aleister smiled. "Don't worry – I will keep your trials and tribulations with uncooperative undergarments a secret. I think I may have learned a word or two from you." He winked at her.

Janine pulled open a drawer, still flushed as she rummaged through cutlery. "Sorry about that."

"Not at all. I'm always happy to learn new things."

Her fingers extracting a spoon, Janine's mouth worked as if it sought to find the right words to say before her brain could. "I, uh . . . heard you guys made it to spaghetti night." She closed the drawer with an elbow.

"We did, actually. We brought garlic bread and cannolis."

Janine exhaled through her nose. "I bet I know who brought what."

Aleister chuckled, hands raised. "No contest there."

"Did he even eat anything other than sweets?'

"I forced him to take a plate, and he did eat an entire meatball." Aleister smirked at the memory. "The expression he gave me was rather like one you'd see on a dog after spooning medicine down his throat."

A short laugh escaped Janine's lips. "I don't know how you deal with him."

"It's . . . trying, sometimes. It always is, with family."

Her expression darkened, and she turned away, looking toward the flyer-laden bulletin board on the back wall. "I guess so."

Aleister tilted his head. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he likes you. I saw –"

"_I_ know better." Janine's voice was low as she interrupted him. "And you can stop pretending to be nice to me. Whatever weird information he thinks you can get out of me, it's not going to work."

"Wha – I wasn't pretending, and I'm _not_ trying –"

"_He's_ the one who's a suspect!" Janine rounded on him. "Has he ever been a victim? Does he even know what that feels like?"

Aleister stared at her for a moment. _I can't tell her the truth_, he thought, _but I've no idea what he's told her already!_ "He . . . has. He does. We both do. Being adopted, we both . . . lost family. But we were lucky enough to be gathered into a new one. I know how he seems, but he's not a hollow shell. He's a person, even if he doesn't . . . do well with showing his feelings."

Shaking her head, Janine turned back to the door to walk past him, her shoulder brushing his. "That's a pretty big understatement. I know he's your brother, so you're on his side. Just . . . keep him away from me, OK?"

"I'll do what I can." Watching her disappear from view into the hallway, he sighed. _What the bloody hell did you do to THAT one?_ Aleister wondered, opening the fridge and extracting a container of leftover spaghetti marked "For A, love K!" He weighed the information he might get from L against the likelihood of launching yet another argument and decided that maybe this time he wouldn't ask.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Despite the addition of a disgruntled roommate to his living arrangements, the rest of the week had gone smoothly enough. The lack of leads on Beyond's whereabouts continued to be frustrating, and L knew that Aleister was more worried than he let on, but he did not press him about it. They rarely debated anything more significant than the pragmatic aspects of investigation, not since their last discussion of justice. This suited L fine. He preferred the silence, he preferred being able to think and watch and reach conclusions and plan actions. Twice he'd gone out looking for the Butcher's base of operations overnight, searching the campus grounds while Aleister had remained behind to watch the feeds, but L had not found anything conclusive among the academic buildings or in the park. He thought that there must be something obvious he was missing – it was just a matter of refocusing himself to find it.

Somehow over the course of his stay, Aleister had managed to get him to be more sociable among his dorm-mates. To his chagrin, L could not fault Aleister's logic that interacting more frequently and positively with them would do much to dissuade them that he was any threat, and so he had found himself attending Wednesday's 'spaghetti night' with his fellow residents on floor six as well as an ice cream social with the entire dorm on Friday evening. L had no doubt that most of the other dorm residents still regarded him with suspicion following the newscast, but he could see them mitigating their behavior enough to accommodate the possibility that he might not be a murderer, which he supposed was of some value.

Now that it was Saturday, which L had decided was his least favorite day, he expected that Aleister had any number of social involvements in which to ensnare L – which was why it came as some surprise when he returned from the bathroom to discover Aleister throwing his clothes into a bag.

Aleister didn't look up. "I'm off."

"So I see. Why is that?"

"It'd be verging on implausible for your little brother to be visiting for more than a week. It makes more sense for me to leave either today or tomorrow in order to protect your cover."

"Why not stay another day then?"

"I could do. But there's no need. I can participate in the investigation just as well from W— _grandfather's_ location, and frankly, he's got more room, and more than one bed. I'll be more comfortable there."

L was certain that Aleister was referring to more than just creature comforts, but chose not to say so. "Of course. Will you be watching the feeds from there?"

"I'll do that during the day, while you're in class. You can watch overnight, as you were doing before. We've got more than one rig, so he can keep an eye on you and watch the feeds too, plus the hotel room."

"Has he extended the reservation?"

"He has. Just for another week. There's been no activity there, so he's not hopeful, but we want to be sure."

"I understand."

Aleister cinched the bag shut. "No more late-night walkabouts for you, though. We're to observe only. He sussed out what you were doing that first night, by the way, but he was firm about it when I spoke to him today."

"Oh really." L's eyes drooped to half-lidded. "I recall his telling me that I was still the lead investigator, so if I determine that I must investigate directly, then –"

"Take it up with him, then. I've no doubt you'll reach some sort of agreement." Aleister turned to go.

"Thank you, Aleister." L watched him come to a halt near the door, still faced away from him.

"For what? Annoying you?"

"For everything you've said and done."

Seeming to sigh, Aleister left without another word, shutting the door quietly behind him. A simultaneous feeling of relief and dread came over L – relief that he did not have explain his every move to a boy who both understood and did not, and dread that he might not have the opportunity to explain anything to him again.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

The complete absence of cake was unbearable. Compensating with pastries, ice cream, and pie was adequate to his needs, but it had been over five days and L's craving was escalating. Though it was the sugar and carbohydrate components that he needed for quick brain fuel, he supposed that he found the textures and flavors of cake comforting, as was the psychological reminder of a home long lost to him. He wished that he was less dependent on such things.

Crunching into a cherry turnover, L sullenly regarded the shower of pastry shards falling to clink softly onto his plate. Allowing himself to feel displeasure over a trivial matter like sustenance was handily distracting him from the fact that, yet again, the Butcher had dropped another body part and he had not witnessed it. A foot had been deposited on the roof of the hospital, the first time any part had been found on a building rather than on the grounds where Watari's cameras were deployed. The hospital had no security cameras installed there either, to L's extreme displeasure. The drop had apparently occurred around the time of Aleister's departure from his room yesterday, in broad daylight. L was relying on Watari to obtain information about the new crime scene from the police, and he knew that he would be able to review the details soon. It did, however, disquiet him to know that the part could have come from one of two people he knew.

"Dude, cakeless again?"

"Yes." L nodded at Geoff. "It seems the cafeteria staff is conspiring against me."

Geoff set his tray down, sitting across from L. "They'll bring it back, I'm sure." Digging into his meatloaf, his eyes slid to L and away. "Maybe you can get your little bro to bring you one."

"Even if he had the time to visit me again, I doubt he'd be willing to assist me. You know how siblings can be."

Geoff's face went blank, seeming to pale slightly, and he nodded at his plate. "Yeah sure." He shoveled a large chunk of meat in to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a few moments as he stared toward a window. "You could always make your own." His voice was muffled, eyes still downcast, cheeks bulging.

A frown crimped L's face for a moment. "I attempted that once. My goal of increasing the sugar content resulted in an inedible disaster, I'm afraid."

"Well, yeah – it's usually a good idea to follow the recipe." Geoff swallowed, raising an eyebrow. "You could get a box mix." He shoveled in more food.

"Mm. Those aren't as good."

"Better than nothing."

"I suppose. Though the odds of others wanting some if I baked it in the dorm kitchen are fairly high – I would say 89% in favor."

"So? Just make it, like, a thing – a cake social or whatever. Everyone who attends has to bring something."

L's eyes widened. "You . . . are suggesting that I coerce others into bringing cake?"

Geoff laughed. "No, dude. You have to do it too. It'd be like a potluck, except with cake and stuff."

After pondering the notion for several seconds, stroking his lip with his thumb, L shook his head. "I do not think that anyone would be interested in attending such an event. Particularly if I am the one initiating it."

"I dunno. A week from tomorrow is the first Monday of midterms for the undergrads. If you scheduled it for this Friday, when people usually like to party but might be staying in to study, it'd probably be a big hit."

"Hm." L wondered what reason Geoff might have for pushing this idea.

Geoff sopped up some gravy with the corner of a roll. "You just gotta put it out there, you know? Most people will go along with an idea if it sounds cool."

"I was under the impression that an invitation to share cake with a social pariah and possible murderer might be the antithesis of cool."

"Well, when you put it like that . . ." Geoff traced the tines of his fork through the gravy on his plate, hunching over his food before taking a bite of potato. "You're not the only geek in the dorm, though, dude. And nobody really thinks you're a murderer."

"I am fairly certain that there are those who do."

"I don't."

"Really? And why not?"

Geoff shrugged, still munching. "Call it a hunch."

"Hm." His pastries gone but for a few sugary bits on his plate, L regarded Geoff intently. _He is unlikely to be the murderer himself_, he thought, _though it is interesting that he is so certain that I could not be_. _I do know his whereabouts for the times of several of the drops, so he could not have participated in those_. _However_ . . . "You seem to have given this 'cake social' idea a fair amount of thought."

"Heh. Actually, I didn't think of it until we started talking. Spaghetti night is always fun, and most people like parties. I just figured, you like cake, and more people equals more cake, so . . ." Geoff lifted a hand, palm up.

"I feel . . . underqualified for an endeavor of this kind. And there is no way to be certain that people will attend, let alone bring anything."

"Tell you what," Geoff said, finishing his last bite of supper, "I'll make the sign-up sheet and post it in the kitchen. I can put up a couple of announcement-type sheets around the dorm for you too."

"Are you really just doing this to help me get cake?" L narrowed his eyes.

"What, I can't like cake too?"

"You have never shown much interest in it before."

"I dunno. I guess . . . it's the social aspect I'm into." The barest hint of pink touched Geoff's cheeks as he reached for his glass of virulent green soda.

A few moments passed as L stared, pondering this, a few clues popping into place: increased reticence in selected situations, changing eye focus, odd micro-expressions, altering body language, variations in blood flow to the face, all concurrent with certain interactions. Several images shuffled through L's head, all clicking in, confirming the now 86% likelihood of his hypothesis. "You are attracted to Janine."

Coughing erupted from Geoff, and he set his glass down, thumping his own chest with the side of his fist as his face reddened and eyes watered.

"Hm. I did not anticipate this reaction, but it serves to bolster my theory. 93% now."

Geoff drew a ragged breath, his long face flushed from choking. "Dude . . ." The coughing continued as he shook his head. "How did you know?"

"Your reactions to her have been subtle enough that I did not realize it until now, but it was easy to determine based on your past behavior and your current interest in initiating an event that would almost certainly include her. I do not believe that she knows how you feel. If we proceed with your suggestion, the gathering itself would provide you with an opportunity to learn more about her, should she attend. Of course, my presence would be a dissuading factor . . ."

"I doubt she thinks you're the murderer either. I'm pretty sure –"

"It is for other reasons. A week ago, I misread her behavior and reacted badly, and she has not forgiven me."

"Oh. Well . . . sorry to hear that."

"You should not be. It increases your advantage. Perhaps she will attend simply because you are there."

"That – I dunno. Probably not." Geoff looked away.

L stared at the crumbs on his plate, thumb pressed to his lower lip. _If Janine and Geoff become romantically linked_, he thought, _they will have less time to interact with others, including myself_. "Do you really think people will bring cake?"

"Totally. It's just weird enough to be awesome."

A brief smile stretched L's lips. "Then I agree to your plan." Seeing Geoff grin in response, L nodded once, thinking of plans of his own. _As long as I keep my inquiries subtle_, he thought, _I can determine whether any of them is, or has connections to, the Butcher_. _It's time I got more solid answers_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

"Anything?"

"No change."

"I see. We may need to more seriously consider the possibility that he won't be –"

"No." Aleister turned in his chair. "We need to give him more time. Keeping the hotel room, with his things in it, will give him the chance to get a message to us."

"Even if sending us a message is among his intentions, he may have expected the room to be let go by now. And . . . we must address the possibility that he has met with foul play." Watari's tone was gentle.

"I know we can't rule that out, but it would also be just like Beyond to make us _think_ he's met with foul play when in reality he's gone into hiding to pursue a lead. Odds are he's watching the room just as we are – which means that we can send _him_ a message, if we've a mind."

"And what message do you think should be sent?"

"I haven't thought of a proper one yet. But if we let the room go, we'll be giving up a potential mode of communication."

Watari sighed. "I see your point. However, I don't want you going back there to muss the bedclothes and make it look as though you are both still occupying the room simply to fool the cleaning staff. The risk isn't worth the reward. You can go back when you've devised a message to leave for Beyond, but that is all."

"If you insist."

"I do indeed. I will extend the reservation for an additional two weeks."

"Thank you." Aleister found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I expect you've looked in on our other charge. Any news there?"

"Not really. The usual ungodly amount of sugar and coffee being consumed. He's been watching the feeds overnight in lieu of sleep, and I caught him doing some actual schoolwork earlier."

Watari smiled. "Trying to keep his mind sharp, as well as maintain cover. Good to hear."

"How did he react to the lab results for the last drop?"

"He was calm, as expected, but I did detect a timbre of disappointment in his tone. The information I acquired from the police results confirmed the matching blood type, though they seem to be holding this information back from the media. Ms. Fragaria's demise would almost certainly be featured in local news reports otherwise."

"We're certain they're dead, then? The Butcher's victims?"

"We cannot be certain, Aleister. Given the sheer number of victims, however . . ."

"He'd have to have quite an operation going to keep many of them alive, I know." Aleister sighed. "Maybe he keeps them alive for a bit after removing parts, before . . ." He shook his head. "It seems wrong to hope the murderer's torturing people, but if he is, then lives could still be saved."

"And lives _will_ be saved. You must believe that."

"I do," Aleister said, not believing it entirely. _I'm just depressing myself with all this_, he thought. _Shake it off_. "One slightly odd thing . . . I noticed L's bought several boxes of cake mix."

"Oh dear. He's not pouring mix down his throat, is he?"

"Ugh." Aleister recoiled. "Is that something he's done before?"

"Not with cake mix. I did catch him downing cocoa straight from the packets once. He later conceded that it tasted better as a beverage when I scolded him for his impatience."

Shaking his head, Aleister pressed two knuckles to his brow and produced a half-smile. "How _do_ you put up with any of us?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Watari's smiling eyes.

"It takes some doing, but it's worth it." Watari stepped away toward the small kitchen in their suite. "How does salmon and chevre en croute with fresh greens sound for supper?"

"Sounds fantastic." Aleister felt his mouth watering as he continued viewing the feeds from the cameras arrayed around campus and the hospital, as well as the hotel room and L's room. He clicked on the latter and saw L holding a box of cake mix aloft with thumb and forefinger, his head tilted as he seemed to read the instructions in the dim light. Before he clicked away, he saw L reach back and scratch his butt, and he had to choke back a laugh, hoping Watari hadn't heard him. _Every once in awhile, you show me you're human_, Aleister thought, _yet in some ways, I wish you weren't_.

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Author's Note: Continuing cake fetishes and awkward social interactions ftw? Oh yes. ^_^

And if you haven't voted in my poll yet, please go to my profile and VOTE! Please let me know if you want this fic to stay T-rated or change to M-rated – I need to know soon. To tell me _why_ you think this fic should either stay with its rating or change, you can review or send me a message. Any feedback you can give me will be very much appreciated.

Thanks for reading!


	13. Tide, Rising

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 13: Tide, Rising

The number of dishes piled in and near the sink filled L with resignation, making him grateful that they had at least used paper plates for the event. To his utter shock, the cake social had been a success, attended by numerous dorm residents, including most of the sixth floor, and a few non-residential students, of whom Guy was the only one he'd recognized. Most pleasing was the fact that almost everyone had brought something – 90% by L's count – ranging from soda and store-bought cookies to homemade cake and a sticky toffee pudding that put Roger's to shame. It was all he could do to resist carrying the leftovers back to his room immediately, but he reasoned that he could sneak away with most of it if he was patient and did it in batches.

"Ugh – boys are so awful, aren't they? None of them stayed to help clean up."

L turned, eyebrows raised. "I was simply deciding on the most efficient approach."

"Oh, I didn't mean you, silly. You're the exception!" The short-haired brunette tossed him a towel, her nose-stud winking in the light. "Tell you what – I'll wash, you dry, OK?"

"I . . . alright." L stared at the blue and white checked towel as though it was an alien creature. He wished he had thought to escape before the end of the gathering as Geoff had done, but that was the price for scoping the leftovers. "It's Kim, isn't it?"

"Yup!" Kim started the faucet, water bursting forth and rushing over her fingers, droplets spraying the edges of the sink. "Your cake was, um, impressive, by the way."

"Was it?"

"Oh yeah. I don't think I've ever seen one that big."

"Mm. Well, I thought 4 layers would be better than just two, and I wanted both chocolate and vanilla. I do wish I had obtained more frosting, however. Out of the seven I purchased, I only have one tub left."

Kim's eyebrows were raised as she moved her hand through the water, still testing it. "I'm a sucker for frosting too, but wow. I liked that you put fresh strawberries on your cake – those were yummy."

"They were the best I could find, though this is not really the season for them." L approached her side as she filled one side of the split sink with warm, sudsy water.

"It's too bad your brother couldn't join us. I guess he went back home, right?"

"Yes. He could not afford to miss any more school."

"He was a real cutie." She smiled, gaze distant as she began scrubbing a cake pan. "Think he'll visit you again?"

"It is possible." Eyeing her as he shoved his sleeves up to his elbows, L wondered what point she was trying to make. "You are not his type, by the way."

Kim faced L, handing him a dripping pan. "_Wow_ you're blunt!" Grinning, she turned back to the sink. "I know he's gay. So am I, so he's not my type either."

L tilted his head, watching her as he slid the cloth around the rim of the pan. "Then why . . ."

She shrugged with one shoulder. "He's a nice kid – I liked talking to him. Plus, I have a friend who would _so_ be his type . . ."

"I do not want some college lothario taking advantage of my underage brother." L's tone was more biting than he'd intended, and he swallowed, setting aside one pan to receive another.

"Aww – that's so cute! You're really protective of him." Kim gave a pixie-ish smile, handing him a platter as he set the pan down. "I don't blame you. But my friend is still in high school, and anyway, I wouldn't fix them up on a date or anything. I think it's better when people just meet and figure shit out on their own, you know?"

"Yes, I agree," L said, not sure he agreed. The inquiries he'd considered making died in his throat. _She does not seem a likely candidate at all_, he thought. _Perhaps this entire endeavor was a waste of time – except for the cake_.

"So . . . what about you?"

"Hm?" L took a cookie sheet from her and began wiping droplets from it. "What do you mean?"

"What's your type?" Still smiling, Kim inclined her head.

"My . . ." L blinked. "Are you inquiring as to my sexual orientation?"

"Well, yeah. Turn-about bluntness is fair play." Kim scrubbed at a muffin pan. "I mean, I know sometimes it can take a person some time to figure out what they're into, but . . . I dunno, you just seem like such a no-bullshit kinda guy that I thought you'd know by now."

L frowned, stacking another dried pan in the growing precarious pile. "Whatever I may know, I do not see how it is anyone else's concern."

As she handed him the muffin tin, Kim's eyes turned sad. "It isn't. But anyway, you shouldn't be ashamed, whatever it is."

Minutes went by as they washed and dried pans and serving dishes in silence, interrupted only by the occasional clatter and the murmur of voices wafting in from the hallway. Clean dishes were steadily piled on the counter and the table behind them as they worked, dishwater dripping from their elbows as if marking the time. When the sink was nearly empty, L noticed that the dishtowel was soaked to the point that it was more likely to increase the amount of water on the next dish. He reached forward and wrung it out over the empty side of the sink, watching Kim clean frosting off of the large cake knife.

"Look, I'm sorry I asked. I was just curious, but you're right. It's none of my business." Kim handed L the cleaned knife, handle first.

He stared at the blade as he moved the cloth over it, reflected light from the overhead strobing across his face. Kim drained the sink, a small vortex sucking the sudsy water down, and washed her hands, drying them on her untucked grey t-shirt before moving to leave. L spoke softly at her back. "There have been times when I have wished that I was gay, but I am not."

Kim smiled from the doorway, fingers crooking the doorjamb. "Know what that makes you?"

_Pathetic?_ L thought. "Foolish?" he asked.

"_Normal_." Kim winked. "Glad you put together this little shindig, Ezekiel. It was fun." She disappeared into the hallway.

_Normal_, he thought; _how appalling_. Putting the knife away, L wasn't sure why he had shared such personal information with someone who was, at best, an acquaintance, but he rationalized that the information was unlikely to be damaging to him. For the most part, he'd managed not to share much about himself even in terms of his fictional persona while ferreting out details from the others at the gathering. Conversation after conversation, and for all he'd endured, he'd only been able to ascertain that the Butcher was not among the attendees – a less than 1% chance. There were a handful of people whom L thought could be accomplices, but the percentiles of likelihood were 6% or lower for all of them. Even Knut, who'd wandered in half-drunk to mock the proceedings, wasn't especially likely to be connected to the Butcher. _He is simply too stupid_, L thought; _even an accomplice of the Butcher would have to be smart enough to maintain some level of stealth_.

Oddly, of the nine people who knew Gellie, not one of them seemed to suspect that she was missing, though this may have been a consequence of her tendency to take spur-of-the-moment trips, if Guy's recollection was accurate. L found it depressing that someone known and well-liked in her community could disappear for several days without people realizing something was wrong, but he'd decided to continue to keep what he'd seen at her home to himself in the event he needed to later reveal what he'd "witnessed" to jibe with Aleister's statements on the evening he'd been on the news. _Best to skew close to the truth even when lying_, L thought.

Exiting the kitchen, he saw Janine sitting at the end of the hall couch next to Danielle and a few others, chatting quietly. L jammed his hands in his pockets. Deciding that he did not want another opportunity to go missing, he steeled himself and walked over to them.

"Janine . . ."

"Leave her alone, _Zeke_." Danielle's green eyes pierced him.

L ignored her. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior nearly two weeks ago. I do not expect nor am I asking for your forgiveness, but I now recognize the insensitivity in my reaction." He hoped that his explanation sounded plausible to Janine and that he was being successfully conciliatory. "I will not seek you out further, as I can see that I am upsetting you, but . . . in an effort to mitigate the distress I caused you, I have secured a date for you for the upcoming Bal de la Moisson."

"You . . ." Janine's flummoxed expression was magnified as her mouth dropped open.

"What?" Danielle yelled. "What the hell makes you think she needs _your_ help to get a date? And why the fuck would she go out with –"

"I have no doubt that you can procure dates on your own, Janine," L said, resolutely focusing on her alone, "and I did not make any promises on your behalf. Geoff expressed an interest in attending the dance with you, so if you are interested in accompanying him, you need only let him know." Ducking his head once, L took a step back.

"Why did you do that?"

L almost smiled, considering that Janine's question was identical to his after she'd kissed him. "Because he likes you, and because I understand that you wish to go to the dance, and because I have seen you look at Geoff and blush. My interpretation is that you like him as well."

"That's . . . Ezekiel, I don't know what to say." Janine was blushing now as she stared up at him.

"You need not say anything at the moment. Geoff will speak to you of this soon, and you may tell him your decision then. You have no obligation in the matter." L took a deep breath, noting that Danielle seemed speechless for once. "Thank you for listening."

"But . . . but I still don't understand why you, I mean . . ." Janine's hands fluttered in front of her as if they were attempting to literally grasp meaning from the air, or wave it away.

L let the smile slip onto his face. "I am hopeful that you will be happy."

Not giving her a chance to respond, L turned, walking swiftly down the hall, hands still fisted in his pockets. _That went better than I had anticipated_, he thought. _Now all I need to do is inform Geoff that he must ask Janine to the dance. Their involvement will allow me to focus more on the case_. L hummed softly to himself as he continued past his own door toward Geoff's room, already plotting how he would make off with the remaining baked goods.

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_Such a gift you gave, so precious and small, but you have yet more gifts to bear, and so I'll keep you bound and quaking on my shining table. You speak of fate, but you're far too late, for I'm writing it now, for us all_.

_The hound misses you, I think, yes, yes – I wonder if he'll know you by your gift, unwrapped and waiting. He takes his time while playing fetch and does not possess your energy. It's true, I cannot help toying with him, but he has made himself his own toy, his own pawn, for the way he has toyed with others_ . . .

_A tool? He is that, and I see you are no fool, though you could scarcely be. Perhaps I will trade a pet for a pet, or a pet of a pet for a pet. But not yet! If the hound wants to play, he'll have his day – sooner, I think, than he is ready. With a vented spleen at eighteen, he'll surely be seen, but you and I . . . we can catch him together. I know that it's true – that's what you do! "Justice" in all of its glory_.

_Ah, but don't worry, no, no, you'll be good to go. So lucky for you that I learned to sew! Only I can be Zed to remove the King's head, guillotine in the form of a story. And you, lucky you, shall witness the end, the greater gift, the utter purity of truth splayed out before you, on a table perhaps, but not etherized, oh no. Before Knight falls over rotting King, the truth itself will wake with you as a bloom wakes to water_.

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The bustling steps of other students created a chorus of sibilant rhythm, joining the clattering of equipment, the crinkling of papers, and the zipping of backpacks for the usual song of departure. Today's lab had been reasonably productive and had kept L's mind occupied for a few hours, but now that lunch loomed, it was roving through other territory as he slung his bookbag over his shoulder. He noted that Geoff had already preceded him out the door, and L considered the possibility that Geoff was avoiding him. _Perhaps he is focused on the plans he is making with Janine_, he thought, _which only means that my plan is working_.

"Mr. Penn?"

"Hm?" L spun slowly to face the woman with steel-grey hair cut in a bob, her chain-bound glasses bouncing on her chest as she approached. "Yes, Professor Lachland?"

Her rubber-soled boots thudded to a stop in front of him. "Just how far ahead of the rest of the class would you say you are?"

L blinked. "I . . . have completed all of this semester's reading material, but in terms of practice, I am no further along than anyone else, since removing equipment from the lab would likely be frowned upon."

"I'm glad you recognize that, Mr. Penn, although I doubt you'd get far with an atomic force microscope tucked under your arm." Her grey eyes twinkled.

Quirking a smile in response to the Professor, L brought a thumb to his lip. "Yes. I expect that would not go well."

She brushed her hands on her lab coat. "I don't often do this, but . . . if you'd like to proceed a little further, I can make the lab available to you on weekends."

"You . . . really?" For a moment, L's eyes lit up as he considered the possibilities.

"This weekend is out, since Thanksgiving's on Monday, but we could start after that. I'd have to be here with you at all times, of course, so we'd need to schedule time in advance . . . what is it?" Her eyebrows furrowed.

"I am afraid I must decline your offer." L sighed, slumping. "Unfortunately, I have too many other obligations to take on additional work. As much as I enjoy this course, I must pace myself." He struggled to hide his disappointment. _If I spend any more time on schoolwork_, he thought, _it would divert too much of my attention from the case_. _Also, it is unlikely that I would be able to use this lab to work on the case, considering that I would be under constant observation_.

"Well, I'm disappointed to hear that, Mr. Penn." The Professor sighed. "It's rare to have a student who grasps the concepts so readily _and_ shows enthusiasm for the subject. I had hoped that you would be more interested in a challenge."

"Challenge always interests me," L said, one hand slipping into his pocket, "but prudence has its place as well."

"Alright then." She inclined her head slightly, eyes narrowed. "See you Friday morning."

"Thank you, Professor." L turned as they nodded to each other. He would have liked nothing better than to have immersed himself in study, to have absorbed as much information as possible, unraveling DNA strands and re-linking them in different configurations on paper. But he had a job to do. The finger bone had matched the DNA on record for the heart, the fourth drop, though they still did not know to whom those parts belonged. DNA testing had also confirmed that the foot that had been dropped had been Gellie's, and it still rankled that he had had a hand in bringing that about. As to the spleen that had been dropped shortly after Friday's cake social, L had but one guess, and he didn't like it. He wished he could spend more time on his education, but the immediacy of the crimes yet to be unraveled took prevalence over such frivolous things as his wishes and dreams.

A he walked, he wondered if Professor Lachland had had some ulterior motive for wanting him to attend weekend lab with her, but dismissed it. _It would be too suspicious a move for a murderer_, L thought, _and thus cannot be the way the Butcher would draw attention to him- or herself_. He became aware of his jaw clenching at almost the same moment that he became aware of a man following him, several paces back.

Abruptly, L stopped on the path, several students bumping into and brushing past him as he bent to worry at the permanently tied laces of his sneakers. _Civilian clothing_, he thought, peering between his legs, _though it could as easily be a policeman as it could be an accomplice of the Butcher, or one of Coil's men, for that matter_. The man had stopped as well and was staring off into a copse of trees. He was wearing a knit cap, a dark grey hoodie, and jeans. L had trouble seeing his face clearly, given that he was upside down from L's vantage point and somewhat far away, but the man had a stiff posture and seemed older than the average college student.

Standing up and walking forward again, L decided to head to the cafeteria after all, just to see if his stalker would follow him in. _This is a challenge_, L thought, _that I am more than ready to meet_.

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Author's Note: You know, if I had read in a fanfic description that L was going to throw a party (and clean up after it!) AND play matchmaker for two other characters, I'd have thought "Whoa – way too OOC," yet here I am including those things in my fic. O_o Granted, L will cheerfully lie when it suits him and has non-altruistic reasons for doing these things, but still – never thought I'd do _those_ things in a fic. Hopefully it wasn't too much of a jump the shark situation for you guys. "Bal de la Moisson" means Harvest Ball, by the way, and for those who don't know, Canadian Thanksgiving occurs on the second Monday in October.

It seems L sort of wishes he could just focus on his education, which is both normal and not, though I doubt he'd truly be satisfied with that. Addiction can take the most unusual forms . . .

OK, this is my last call to vote in my poll – if you haven't done it yet, please go to my profile and let me know if you want this fic to stay T-rated or change to M-rated. If you want to tell me _why_ you think this fic should either stay with its rating or change, just review or send me a message. Any feedback you can give me will be greatly appreciated. Thanks very much to everyone who has voted so far! I'll leave the poll open for a couple more days, but then I'm closing it, so vote now if you want to be heard!

And as ever, thanks for reading!


	14. Wake

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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_When I talk_

_I want_

_to be_

_definitive._

_But nothing I say_

_defines._

_I broke the clock_

_thinking_

_how_

_it never skips around;_

_how_

_it always connects;_

_but I could not bear_

_it,_

_unrelenting,_

_the electric clock_.

– excerpt from "Discrepancies", Diane Wakoski

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 14: Wake

The squawking was audible from across the room as he entered. _Please, __**please**__ don't pass the phone to me_, he thought, draping his jacket over the back of a chair and walking past the kitchen.

"Of _cours_e not. Well, he's in the next room, actually." Watari sighed. "No, I won't be putting him on. I . . . And it's exactly pronouncements like _that_ that will keep me from doing so. Quite. I _am_ keeping you informed. Yes, that is my intention. I know. It's – well, the sooner the better, really, but I understand that it will take you some time to complete. I have a bad feeling about it as well, Maha, but we must investigate it like anything else, and you know we cannot entrust the results to outsiders. Yes. I will. Do be careful not to telegraph this to the children – you know how sensitive they can be. Of course. I know. Goodnight, love."

He felt Watari's eyes turn his way and fought against meeting them.

"Don't pretend you didn't hear all of that." The older man's warm tone washed toward him.

"Well, I missed the start, and Roger's words were a bit rough to make out despite his having shouted them all in your ear." Aleister turned a wry smile toward Watari. "But I have to ask: 'Maha'?"

Watari chuckled. "I'm afraid I must swear you to secrecy on that, Aleister. What I will tell you is that, as a part of a decades-old joke he and I shared, I took to calling him "MahaRoger,' hence Maha. I trust you'll keep this to yourself?"

He found himself pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. "Given the atrociousness of the pun, I'll endeavor to keep it from myself as well."

"Excellent. How did it go at the hotel?"

"Well enough. I set up a visual message for Beyond that I'm reasonably sure only he will suss out. Hopefully it won't be disrupted by the hotel staff."

"Good. While I do hope that your assessment is correct, we should proceed as though Beyond has been . . . captured. Quite possibly by this murderer." Watari was unable to completely conceal his sour expression.

"I understand all that. I just want to leave open the possibility that he's alright, that he's . . ." _Not dead yet_, Aleister thought. He didn't believe that Beyond had ditched him outright, but even if he had, Aleister knew him well enough to know that he would have found some way to gloat about it if that was the case. It was Beyond's silence, not his absence, that troubled Aleister. He hoped that laying the unwrapped Billot Logs end-to-end on the night table, pointing toward the phone where the "W" on the 9 key was hidden by a small blot of cream would be enough to let Beyond know where he was and who to call. _It's rude enough_, Aleister thought. _He'll get it if he sees it_.

"Hmm . . ."

"What is it?" Aleister walked into Watari's room, noting that the man was now squinting at some text on his computer monitor.

"Just received an encoded message from L. It seems he was being followed earlier today, but he's more interested in whether a . . . sewer opening behind the cafeteria appears in the plans for its construction."

"Well, you have a copy of that here somewhere, I'd expect. Let's just have a look then."

"Actually," Watari looked over his shoulder, lids so low on his eyes it was hard to tell if they were open, "we have the full campus map and the blueprints for every building, but no copies of the plans for the utilities."

Aleister felt his mouth drop open. "Well, why the bloody hell not?"

Watari sighed. "It takes some time to procure such plans, particularly the outdated ones which are not digitally stored, from officials who are . . . unused to working quickly. I'm afraid I don't have any favors I can call in from the local government, and since we are not operating in an official capacity under the umbrella of L, it will raise suspicions to request too much information from them, particularly when –"

"Pose as one of Coil's men. He's probably got all that information already, so just say they need another copy because the last one was destroyed, or something to that effect."

Watari raised his eyebrows. "You don't think Coil will know immediately who would make such a request when he hears of it?"

"Of course he will. I'd say he'll be overjoyed at the prospect of tagging onto our 'secret' investigation. He'll want to let us solve it and then swoop in and take credit – that's what he does. So he'll definitely let the information reach us."

A wry smile appeared on Watari's face. "You've gotten quite bold, Aleister. For a moment there, you reminded me of L."

Aleister's eyes flicked away. "I'm not sure that's quite the compliment you intended, but thanks just the same."

"What he said to you, regarding your aptitude . . . don't take it to heart."

"Whether I take it to heart or to mind, I must _take_ it, regardless." Aleister exhaled sharply. "I know I'm meant to be a substitute or surrogate or successor, but . . . I have to do what's right from my own perspective. I won't pretend to do it from anyone else's."

"And that is all I have ever hoped for from you. I don't expect any of you to be a literal copy of L, and I regret ever using that term."

Swallowing, Aleister nodded once. "Should we get to it, then?"

"Yes. I'll contact the Planning Commission at Toronto City Hall. It's nearly five, but I may be able to sweet talk someone into expediting our request."

"Don't forget to be monstrously condescending. Otherwise they won't believe you're with Coil."

Watari chuckled. "I think a fair few of his men have to be anything _but_ condescending to make up for Coil's predispositions."

Aleister smirked. "Poor lads. I wonder how many we'd be able to get to switch to our side."

"Not many, I'd wager. Coil tends to buy loyalty with blackmail."

"Well. How loathsome."

"Take a look at the latest police reports in your queue before you start scanning through the camera feeds. Once I'm done with phone calls, I'll start supper."

"Right." Aleister walked around to his room and sat down in front of his computer, ready to see what new details Watari had poached from the Toronto police department's data files. Working with the older man had a comfortable structure to it, one that made Aleister feel more free to think things through. He wondered if L felt similarly or if he chafed at the routine the way Beyond certainly would. Aleister felt a fresh surge of anger at the thought of someone possibly harming Beyond, or worse. Opening a file, he focused this energy on parsing the information that lay before him, fitting it into what was known, and trying to grasp the implications. He didn't care who won, he didn't care who was right – at this point, he only cared who survived.

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"I do not know if this information is of any relevance to you or not, but I felt it was better to pass it on just in case."

"Well, I appreciate your letting me know. I'll make sure the rest of the department gets your description of this guy. Have you observed anything else?"

"Hm. Not an observation so much as . . . an inference. Serial killers often like to leave messages of some kind, either in actual notes or by leaving their victims in specific positions or locations, among other things. I am beginning to wonder if the body parts that are dropped are more or less important than the remainder of the bodies that have not been found."

"Uh . . . how do you mean?"

"Without knowing who the victims are, it is difficult to determine why the killer has targeted them, but . . . it is possible that part of his intention was to rob them of their identities."

"I don't think it's even in question that the killer intended to rob these people of their identities, and their individuality, whether he intends for the parts to form a whole or not."

"I suppose. How he targets them, why he chooses these people, specifically . . . these things are important, though his message may not be buried within these choices. It seems abhorrent, but he may be choosing people at random. If that's the case –"

"Look, I appreciate your call, and your information, but I can't get into this kind of conjecture with you. If you notice anything else, call me back. Have a good evening, Mr. Penn."

L scowled at the phone. He did not like it when others hung up on him. _I can hardly guide the police investigation if they won't even listen to me_, he thought. Dismissing again the thought of announcing his presence as L before it had fully formed, he sucked reflexively on a watermelon lollipop, tongue gripping and circling the sugary sphere relentlessly within his mouth. He was still debating over whether to bring the attention of the police to the "sewer" entrance behind the cafeteria – he'd decided against it for now, if only to see if it was being used by someone before the police trampled all over the surrounding area. _As long as I do not compromise my identity and am not seen deliberately leaving clues for the man following me, I may be able to get clues to the police indirectly by leading him to them_. _Assuming, of course, he does not arrest me in the process_.

The shade of his window was drawn, as he kept it now that the police were tailing him. _Correction_, he thought; _not the police – just Maulty_. Once he'd recognized the officer, who'd followed him to the cafeteria but not inside, it became quite clear what L was facing. Which was to say, not much. The man was following L only when he was off-duty, and Watari had been able to confirm that Maulty had reduced his hours lately and had not been instructed by anyone on the force to follow L. Personal vendetta or hunch, however one characterized the pursuit, it meant that Maulty's views were not supported by the police. L didn't really mind being followed by him in public – he felt that having an additional observer, even one who was intent on blaming him for things he had not done, could help close the case. _The more attentive eyes we have focused on campus activity_, L thought, _the more likely we will be to find the critical piece of evidence that will solve this case and stop the murderer_. He hadn't bothered telling Devall that he'd recognized Maulty – it was enough that his description of a tall man with dark hair and eyes and a craggy face with permanent five-o'clock shadow would match Maulty well enough for his superior to speak to him about his activities, possibly advising him to continue them with more discretion.

Sighing, L stood and stretched. He didn't want to give the police any information substantive enough to give Coil a leg up in the investigation, since anything the police learned would certainly be relayed to him, but he did want to try and "shake the tree" for more knowledge, using conjecture to dislodge facts. Not to mention that he'd wanted to test whether Devall was actually willing to converse with his alias Ezekiel Penn about the case. _Clearly, he dislikes being interrupted, which I can understand_, L thought, _though his intentions in catching this criminal seem genuine_. _His file indicates that he has been strongly motivated to solve past cases and protect others, to the point that he has put himself in danger and neglected his own personal relationships_. _Yet if he feels any bitterness over his injuries or his divorce, he conceals it well_. _The three commendations he's received are impressive, but it is more telling that he seems to treat his fellow officers, particularly those beneath him, with respect_.

Walking over to drop his spent lollipop stick in the trash, L then got into the single whip Tai Chi form and resumed the exercise session he'd interrupted to call the Detective. Stretching his arms out and moving them slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to the next, he considered the possibility that Devall knew something that Coil did not. _It feels as though I am missing something important_, he thought, _something beyond what is apparent from the clues I currently possess_. _I need more_. Crouching low, L turned, dipping one arm toward the floor, determined to find his balance and follow through.

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He tabbed through each image mechanically, not seeing the beauty of waving red, orange, and yellow leaves half-lit by streetlamp, or the mosaic of their fallen brethren covering the ground. He did not notice the implicit hush of empty walkways lined in stone, the leaning shadows of public wastebins, the darkened eyes of every building staring sightlessly back. He looked for motion. He looked for aberrance. He looked for a singular thing that would bring all else into focus, illuminating the truth. _Just one clue_, he thought.

Ignored noise filled his room in the otherwise silent building, colored light strobing out from the box just beyond his wriggling toes. L was certain that he and the RA were the only two people occupying the dorm during the Thanksgiving weekend. He was glad that he had stocked up on snacks in advance, since the cafeteria was now closed, as were most area restaurants. As he contemplated going out in the morning to see if any bakeries were open for last-minute purchases, the anticipated music began, and L slid to the floor to crouch in front of the TV, waiting.

"As we reported yesterday, hometown hero and hockey player . . ."

L rolled his eyes, unable to resist also rolling onto his back, spine curved like the blade of a rocking chair, before returning to his prior position. He drummed his fingers on his knees, glancing at the pile of clothing in the corner. _I am going to have to do laundry again_, he thought; _how annoying_.

"I've just been told we have breaking news on the Missing Parts case. We're – what's that, Jim? We're switching to the broadcast n—"

The screen went black, a familiar white icon appearing mid-frame.

"Greetings and salutations, my friends in Toronto, and happy Thanksgiving a day in advance! It is I, your humble servant, Eraldo Coil. I wanted to inform you all of an unfortunate wrinkle in the current investigation of the Missing Parts case. Oh, we have the murderer dead to rights and will be closing in on him soon, but it seems that a certain unwelcome interloper has been . . . confusing the situation. This dilettante's bumbling has resulted in some unforeseen delays in concluding this case, which is unforgivable, of course. I would like nothing better than to expose this person for the disrupter he is, but luckily enough, the police have already targeted him and will be putting him out of everyone's misery. There is no excuse for incompetence, even amongst the drastically inexperienced. I only hope that this ignorant charlatan will not give the Toronto Butcher any more advantages. Speaking of whom . . . I know who you are now, little man, and I know why you're doing all of this. You are wrong to make others suffer for the sins of your forebears. If you want to be shown any leniency, you must stop what you are doing immediately and turn yourself in. Whatever you may think of me, you must realize that nothing you do now will change the past. You are running out of time. If you wait until we catch you, it will be far too late. Thank you again to the people of Toronto, and be assured that we will all have something more to be thankful for soon. Adieu!"

Mouth still open, the flush was starting to fade from his cheeks when a strange sound began to bubble from L's throat. The newswoman had moved on to yammer about something else as L rolled onto his back again, bent legs in the air like a gassed bug, still giggling. After a few moments, a buzzing noise caught his attention, and he rolled onto his side, catching his breath as he reached under his bed to grasp the phone.

"I fail to see what is so funny –"

"Oh, it isn't, grandfather, not precisely, although . . . it's certainly _interesting_ that he's chosen to take potshots at me during one of his immensely important announcements, don't you think?" Grin still twisting his face, L looked up into the corner at one of the cameras, eyes flashing.

"He knows you're here. I take full responsibility for that – requesting the plans for the campus utilities may have been what tipped him off, and I apologize. If what he says about the police is true –"

"It isn't." L muted the TV. "He is exaggerating the police's interest in the hope that we will panic. We already know that only Maulty has 'targeted' me, and without the support of the others. It is even possible that Coil himself asked him to follow me, though that seems less likely. This, along with Coil's obvious insults, was clearly intended to get a reaction from me. We must resist. He has been aware of my presence for some time – it is a 78% likelihood that he knew I was in Toronto within a week of my moving in. The only reason he is revealing it now is because he is desperate for help. By attempting to spur me into action, he is hoping that I will unearth some information that he can use."

"Well, you're going to have to be more careful going forward, I'm afraid. Now that –"

"On the contrary. I fully intend to play along."

"Don't be foolish. Your intellect may outstrip his, but he is much more experienced and has shown himself to be quite capable of ruthlessness."

"You worry too much." L toyed with his lip. "This will backfire on him. Did you notice his tone change after his tirade at me? It seems that he is personally involved with the Butcher – despite the fact that he said so, I believe that he does know who he is. Coil has unintentionally given us an important clue."

"L, _please_."

"Listen to me," L said firmly. "I need you to go back through our records of Coil's old cases. I have no doubt, based on what he said and his tone as he said it, that the Butcher is connected to a past case Coil worked on. We must find this connection quickly and get to the murderer before he does."

"I can get Coil's case information for you, but you cannot throw all caution to the wind! I understand that you'd like nothing better than to rub his failings in his face –"

"Of course I would. But that is not the point. By trying to unbalance me, he has shown that he himself is unbalanced. Playing along with him will make him overconfident, more so than usual, and I will gain the advantage over him as a result. The Butcher's actions are likely linked to a mistake Coil made, something that caused someone else pain. I understand the need for preparedness – I'm not going to run out the door into some pathetic attempt of his to entrap me. Once I have sufficient information, I will make my move. The sooner I can find the connection between Coil and the Butcher, the sooner we can stop the murders. Please send me the encrypted files as quickly as possible."

After a moment of silence, Watari sighed. "I'll send them along shortly. I should not have to tell you this, but showing Coil up is not your priority. Also, given the possible circumstances with regard to Beyond . . ."

"I'm well aware of that. We cannot be certain where B is however, or who he is working with."

"Are you suggesting –"

"It is possible that he is with Coil, despite the fact that B loathes him more than he does me. That would make things more interesting, not to mention better for his health, since it would be less likely that the spleen that was dropped was his. The DNA results are still pending, I take it?"

"Yes – these things take time, as you know. Roger has made it a priority, of course. You'll know the moment I hear back from him."

"Good. Has there been any response to the 'message' at the hotel?"

"No. I don't believe that we can draw any conclusions from that, however."

"Agreed. When I have received your files, I will review them all and compare the details to everything we know about the current case. I will determine the optimal approach before proceeding."

"Do keep me in the loop." Watari's tone was dry. "I would prefer not to be the last to know the details of your plan."

"I will."

"How do you intend to convince Coil that you are panicking?"

"Oh, I won't do anything drastic." L snagged a Passion Flakie from the stash under his desk, lifting it by the corner of its pink plastic wrapping with thumb and forefinger. "It will help if you could contact the Toronto Historical Board and the ROM in a similar manner to the way you contacted the Planning Commission, yet with enough differences that we seem to be concealing our actions. This will distract him, make him think we're off the mark. Also, even if he truly believes that he has seen through my cover, rather than simply being aware that I am somewhere in the area, I will not draw undue attention to myself. My behavior must seem plausibly fearful without being obvious – behaving too fearfully would not only confirm my identity to him, it would also make it clear that I am acting and therefore trying to deceive him. Therefore, I will _not_ be calling Detective Devall again to relay any more misleading information, for example. Perhaps a slight reduction in my social interactions, certain body language alterations –"

"Don't overdo it. Your interaction is suspiciously minimal as it is."

L frowned. "I see you have been speaking with A."

"I would not need any observations other than my own to make such an assessment." Watari sounded bemused. "I am simply cautioning you not to overplay it."

"I am perfectly capable of subtlety."

"Of course."

"I will contact you again once I have read through the reports you send me."

"I would like to recommend that you carry your cellphone with you from now on," Watari hastened to add. "Leaving it hidden is not strictly necessary, but expedited communication could well prove to be."

"Had I been carrying it when the police apprehended me, it could have been confiscated. Despite the security measures you installed, they could have drawn some . . . misleading conclusions about my having an untraceable phone with a coded contact list and a self-destruct feature." L sighed. "However, I do understand your point regarding communication, and I will endeavor to keep it with me."

"Good. Get some rest."

"I need to keep watch. Perhaps I will rest tomorrow, during the day. Goodnight."

L turned off the phone and stowed it away. There were precautions he was willing to take – many of them potentially unnecessary, like refusing to say the name "Watari" even in his own room for fear that someone beyond a wall or door or window might hear it – but he felt reluctant to take his cellphone with him. Though he valued rapid communication, he preferred to be in control of it. He did not want Watari to activate his phone remotely while he was in the middle of something when he could be observed. His previous conclusion was that such interruption would reduce the degree of his on-campus immersion, but L supposed that it really boiled down to his not wanting to be interrupted. _I may have to set more of my preferences aside in order to protect myself_, he thought. _It could be worse_. _At least Watari is not nagging me to wear a hat and coat when I go out_.

Staring at the images on his monitor with renewed eagerness, L's mind churned. _Coil has tipped his hand to me_, he thought. _He likely thinks that knowing the Butcher gives him an advantage, but I will turn it to my own, whether he is working with Beyond or not_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: I've mentioned that Watari and Roger are a couple in my incarnations of them, haven't I? Well, I'm mentioning it now. I'm not writing a lemon for them, however, in case you were worried or got your hopes up. It was fun to have Coil taunt L, heh heh, though he didn't go the extra step of daring L to kill him.

Thank you very much to everyone who voted in my poll! I really appreciate your giving me feedback and suggestions on how to deal with my T vs. M rating dilemma. The poll is closed now, and with an 89% lead, the winning choice is to change the rating to M. I will be doing that concurrent with the posting of the first chapter that includes M-rated content (probably number 16). For those of you who would rather not read anything graphic, you may skip that chapter – I will try to make sure that any plot points brought up within it are at least referenced later.

And as ever, thanks for reading!


	15. Broken Surface

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated T for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 15: Broken Surface

Advanced Molecular Biology had been especially interesting today, to the point that L had nearly forgotten his other priorities. He'd been reminded easily enough by the sight of Maulty clumsily trying to blend into a crowd of students while following him after class. L had kept his head down and skulked through the cafeteria line, maintaining his adjusted cover by avoiding most conversation except for a brief word with Geoff about next week's lab assignment. Geoff had been speaking to him less since he'd arranged his date with Janine, but he could not be sure if this was due to embarrassed gratitude or resentment. _It is possible that something else is distracting him_, L thought, _but whatever the cause, it has allowed me to focus more on the case_. _Hopefully things will go well enough for both of them next weekend so that I may retain this focus_.

Sun long slipped past the horizon, L held his sketch of the university grounds by one corner, his head tilting, toes gripping the bedclothes where he crouched. He'd combined old and new maps into one by hand, marking all of the buildings and walkways along with sewer lines and wiring. The "sewer opening" he'd found behind the cafeteria wasn't on any of the maps or blueprints he'd received from Watari, and he therefore could not be certain where it led. Thinking back to the rust-marked round cover, there hadn't been any discernable insignia on it. More intriguing, L had discovered a reference in some of the Planning Commission's reports to a proposed underground rail line. Apparently construction had already begun before the initially approved decision was overturned, and the report seemed to indicate that what had been completed had been repurposed, though it did not say how.

L suspected that the opening he'd seen would lead to this tunnel construction, in whatever state it had been left, but he wanted additional information before he went spelunking down a manhole. Every part of him keened to make a move, but he was determined to show Watari that he could exercise restraint. He hoped that he was not overcompensating by being too cautious.

Barely suppressing a yawn, L did some calculations in his head. _Thirteen days since the spleen was dropped_, he thought, _and still no apparent pattern to the timing of the drops_. _A person can live without a spleen, provided they survive the surgery and steps are taken to ward off infection_. _The likelihood, however, of the Butcher taking measures to ensure his victims' survival is no more than 7% at the most optimistic_. _The task of caring for multiple maimed hostages would be impracticable even for two people working together_. _Mistakes would be made_. _A determined hostage would find a way to draw attention to his or her captors – certainly Beyond would try to do that if he were still alive in the Butcher's custody, which seems even less plausible than his working with Coil_.

Gloom overtook L. He'd never really liked Beyond, but he had seen potential in him. There had even been times when he had admired the younger boy's perseverance, his absolute commitment to a goal. The mimicry had been annoying, but L had had confidence that Beyond would outgrow it. Over three and a half years ago, L had stopped baiting him with the unimaginative codename that had once been bestowed on B – both he and A had protested the names they'd initially been given until Watari had relented, allowing them their current codenames. As of four years ago, they were no longer Alternate and Backup, becoming Aleister and Beyond instead. Disliking the inherent challenge in the name "Beyond," however, L did still tend to refer to him as "B," so perhaps he'd never really stopped baiting him. Regardless, he hadn't wanted him dead, and worse, dead on his watch.

They already knew that the blood type of the spleen was the same as Beyond's, B negative. The DNA profile was still pending. Watari had gone to a good deal of trouble, breaking into the police station in the hours before dawn following when the drop had occurred to obtain a sample of the spleen himself so that they could run their own tests. The police wouldn't have any profile to which to compare it if the spleen did belong to the missing teen, but Wammy House maintained such details locked away in the bowels of the orphanage. If the Butcher had cut out Beyond's spleen, they would know soon. L felt that the results of Roger's tests should have been back by now, but he was willing to wait until daylight to ask Watari about it again.

An full yawn overtook L's face, to his surprise and dismay. Shaking his head, he realized what he needed to do and rolled up his sketch of the grounds. He dropped to the floor, tucking the roll under the rim of his bedframe, attaching it there, and then reached for the phone, dialing it at once.

"Grandfather, it's been about three days, so I am going to get some rest. I should only need a few hours."

"'Grandfather' is asleep at the moment, actually." The dry tone carried well enough through the connection. "And it's been closer to four days."

"Ah. Good evening. I don't suppose there's been any news?"

"Obviously not," Aleister retorted. "We'd have called you if there had been."

"I see." There were things L wanted to say, but 'I apologize' wasn't one of them, and he doubted that Aleister would accept that anyway. He knew that the situation with Beyond must be upsetting Aleister a great deal. He just didn't know what to say to him about it. "I hope that you are more comfortable where you are."

There was a pause. "I'll give him your message. We'll call you when we've got news. Get your rest." Aleister disconnected.

"Hm." L shut his phone back off and re-stowed it. Whether Aleister was still angry with him for some of the things he'd said or because he blamed L for whatever had happened to Beyond, he hoped that he would get over it soon. _Those of us who remain must work together to stop these murders_, he thought. _We owe that much to those who have already fallen_.

Balancing on his hands on the bed, L rubbed the soles of his feet together before bringing them under him and reaching forward to shut off his computer. The last source of light in the room gone, he moved the covers aside and swung his legs under them, fully clothed, and bunched himself into the fetal position. L looked forward to the day when his body no longer required so much sleep and he could remain awake for a week or more. Sighing, he succumbed to the pull on his eyelids, a wistful hope for dreamlessness his last conscious thought.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

"Sorry, no – I'm not waking him for you. He was bloody well exhausted."

"And whose fault is that, then? If you two whelps hadn't –"

"You think I don't understand the consequences of our actions?" Aleister snapped. "There's a chance Beyond is dead! You know we need those test results to find out if the spleen was his – why is _that_ delayed, just by the way?"

"You little . . ." Roger exhaled into the phone. "I told our lab boys to put a rush on it, and they're still working. Apparently there was some cell damage as a result of splenomegaly, but –"

"What? Why would his spleen have been enlarged?"

"How the bloody hell should I know?" Roger fumed. "It slowed our testing down for some reason, I don't know why. But they'll have the results soon. In fact, they'll damn well have results by tomorrow or I'll beat it out of them myself."

"Well, that sounds . . . less than helpful, actually."

"You're not the only one who's frustrated by all this." Roger's voice sounded choked. "Beyond's always been a right pain in the arse, but . . . he doesn't deserve to be murdered for it. It's . . ."

"Roger, it's alright. Whatever's happened, we'll find out, and we'll find _him_." Aleister felt odd comforting the older man, particularly since Roger had never seemed to enjoy interacting with the children, especially the more troublesome ones. _Not sure who he dislikes most_, he thought, _L, Beyond, or Mello_. _He's always seemed to ignore me_. "For all we know, Beyond could be laughing at us right now. I'll tell Mr. Wammy you called him. Is there a time you'd like him to ring you back?"

Roger's sigh seemed to rattle the phone's speaker. "Don't worry about it, lad. I'll call back as soon as I can with the results. Suppose I just wanted to hear his voice."

"I understand." Aleister swallowed.

"You keep an eye on those two, in the meantime, and try to stay out of trouble."

"I'll . . . do my best." Blinking at the sudden click terminating the call and the odd mix of warmth and resignation in the man's voice, Aleister wondered how upset Roger really was. Putting the secure cell phone back in its charger, he decided he would tell Watari upon his waking that Roger had called, despite the man's dismissal. Knowing that the distance between the two older men had put a strain on their relationship was one thing, but realizing the extent of the strain was another. _Don't know what I'd do in your spot, Roger_, Aleister thought. Head jerking, he thought again. _Actually, yes I do – I'd go bloody mad_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

"I realize that you have been keeping watch as well, but –"

"That is not why I am calling." Watari's voice was somber.

L blinked. "Then . . ."

"Roger just contacted me with the test results. The spleen that was dropped did indeed belong to Beyond."

Nodding unconsciously, L swallowed. "I . . . was afraid that would be the case. How is . . . ?"

"Aleister is understandably upset. He and I will be clearing out the hotel room he shared with Beyond this evening, and I will let the room go tomorrow to coincide with the end of the Canadian International Marathon – our checking out will likely go unnoticed among the throng. We intend to leave in an hour or so, when I expect you'll be watching the camera feeds."

"Yes, that's right. I will obtain some sustenance and then return to my room so as not to delay you."

"Understood."

"Tell him I am sorry."

Watari was silent for a moment. "I don't believe that Aleister blames you."

"Whether he does or not, please tell him for me."

"I will."

"Thank you." L terminated the call.

He stood stock-still in the center of his room. In truth, L had already reconciled himself to the likelihood that Beyond was dead. Aside from the fact that keeping multiple victims alive was insupportable, it seemed doubtful that the Butcher would have a reason to keep the teen alive. The murderer would have had to see Beyond as special to do so.

His eyes widened. _Could the Butcher have connected Beyond to me?_ L wondered. Pulling at his lip, he paced the floor. _No – if the Butcher has assumed that he is connected to anyone considered 'significant,' it is more likely to be Coil_, he thought. _Beyond may be reckless, but he is too intelligent to have given the murderer accurate information which could be used against him_. _If he did offer himself up to the Butcher as a possible hostage to use against Coil_ . . . With a jolt, L realized that he was getting his own hopes up for Beyond's survival, which he considered pointlessly optimistic as he pushed such thoughts from his mind.

Halting his pacing, he moved to stow his phone before stopping himself and dropping it into his pocket instead. L hoped that no one would slow him down on the way to or from the cafeteria. More than usual, he was not in a mood to socialize. Grey thunderclouds loomed outside as he peered past the shade, and he wondered if the rain would fall this time or if the clouds would just tease and move past to unload their burdens elsewhere.

_The chance that Beyond is alive is extremely low_, L thought; _perhaps 3% at most_. _I cannot act on so low a likelihood_. _It would be foolish_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Restuffed suitcases sat ignored in the main room, next to a parcel of forensic samples and a bag of cleaning supplies. Limp fingers of blue rubber gloves now empty poked out of the bag. The silence was palpable, as though it was crushing his neck to the wall. He did not want to speak. He did not want to hear anyone speak to him. He knew there was still work to be done but had no energy for it. Food had passed his lips untasted. Reports had passed his eyes unread. If only he could make himself move, make himself do what he had to do, but numbness enveloped him.

_Beyond would have chosen anger_. The thought lanced through Aleister, and he winced. _I am not Beyond!_ Shakily, he reached for the tea cooling in a cup and sipped. He knew he should have been trying to sleep – it would be his turn to watch the feeds after sunrise, and he needed to be attentive. _I am up to this_, Aleister thought; _whatever I may feel, I __**must**__ be up to this, or everything we tried to do will have been for nothing_.

They'd left the cameras in the hotel room. Despite the moral conundrum of possibly observing people who later checked in without having any connection to the case, Watari had concluded that it was more prudent to leave them in place in the event that the murderer ventured there after the room was cleared. Aleister couldn't look at the room. Watari hadn't asked the meaning of the message he'd left for Beyond, which was for the best – Aleister hadn't felt up to explaining the rude humor they shared.

For now, Aleister had the suite to himself. Watari was out placing new cameras, including one focused on the sewer opening behind the cafeteria. _Although it's not really a sewer, is it?_ Aleister thought, his mouth pressed into a thin line. _It's not on the maps or any of the older plans_. _A mysterious passageway . . . what's next, pirate ghosts?_ _I am not in the mood for some Scooby Doo-esque nonsense_.

Aleister almost smiled. He pictured a group of children gathered around a telly to watch Scooby Doo, with Matt even setting his Game Boy down occasionally to pay attention. Thinking of Wammy House even for a moment brought a strange rushing warmth that almost immediately twisted up inside him, turning remembered joy to pain. Beyond had always teased him for his sentimentality. "You're nostalgic for things you've never even done, Ally-oop!" he'd told Aleister once. Wet trails on his cheeks brought him back to the present, and he wanted to bash the back of his head into the wall just to alter the ache. _We were always fucking doomed, weren't we, you lunatic!_ Aleister raged in his head. _Never thought for a second that you'd go first, even with all your talk of fate_.

Sitting forward on the bed, he hung his head against bent knees, crying silently. He felt the anguish leaching from him like a poison, and he wondered what would be left if it all drained away. More than anything, he wished he'd fought harder to keep Beyond from leaving England in the first place instead of just going along with him on a lark.

Aleister's head reared up, eyes flashing. _No, that's it, I've decided_, he thought; _you're __**not**__ dead_. _Logic be damned, Beyond, you fucker!_ _You're not dead because I won't have it_. _You're alive, and hidden somewhere, and knowing you, you'll bloody well solve all this before we do_.

Gulping down the last of his cold tea, Aleister felt marginally better. He knew he was being irrational, clinging to a dim hope that his friend was alive. He reasoned that if being irrational kept him functional, then it was better than feeling paralyzed by grief and guilt. Pushing off from the bed, Aleister walked out to the kitchen to make some fresh tea. Whether he slept or not, he needed to feel refreshed or, failing that, at least coherent. Watari and L would be focused on solving the case. Though he wanted that too, his goal would be to find Beyond alive, made all the more important because he would be the only one looking.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Scuffed sneakers beat out a rapid rhythm along the walkway. Impatient to grab a quick supper and head back to his room, L hastened along, head drooping, peering through his hair to evade collision. He didn't bother checking his shadow's whereabouts – he knew Maulty couldn't be far behind. The off-duty officer had sat in the back of the Genome Analysis class from which he'd just emerged. L had not intended to get into a disagreement with Professor Batista regarding the inefficiency of current genome sequencing, but he found it frustrating that he was expected to learn from people who could not think on his level. _It would make much more sense to parallelize the sequencing process rather than using the shotgun approach_, he thought. _The output would be far more accurate, and having a complete DNA sequence would be considerably more helpful when comparing forensic samples, as opposed to the simplified DNA testing we use now_. L understood that it was just a class, and that the truly advanced research was being done elsewhere. He wished now that he had just let it go.

A grouping of sneakers, flip-flops, and boots herded across his field of vision on a crosspath, and he slowed his pace to let them pass before turning in the direction from which they'd come. He was brought up short by a pair of black espadrilles stopped in front of him, and he reluctantly raised his eyes.

"Um, hi."

L maintained his slouch, keeping his face blank. "Hello, Janine."

"I, um . . . you've been kind of busy lately."

"I am always busy."

"Well, yeah, I guess that's true." Janine sighed, eyes darting away and back. "You know I finally got my stuff back from the police? Luckily, Professor Selig was understanding about the whole thing, so between that and my midterm, I think I'm doing a lot better in that class. A guy at the school newspaper wants me to do an article for them on the whole 'police experience' or whatever, but I don't know, because, well, my classes come first, and I want to make sure I do OK. You look tired – are you tired?" The tumble of words kept coming. "Oh! And I heard you rescued someone's cat, how cool is that? I really wish we were allowed to have pets in the dorm – that would be so awesome . . ."

"I need to –"

"Look," Janine sighed, glancing away for a second, "I know things got weird for awhile between us, but . . . I just wanted to say thanks."

L blinked. "I . . . see."

"Geoff told me he'd been wanting to ask me out for awhile but kept chickening out until you talked to me. I didn't even know he liked me! But . . . I like him. We've been talking a lot, and the dance is this Saturday – I can't even believe it's only two days away . . ." Janine tucked a wayward strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. "Anyway, thanks for lighting the fire under him." She smiled, brown eyes meeting grey.

"You are welcome." L ducked his head once, itching to move past her.

"It totally makes up for you not liking me, ha ha!" Janine's laugh rang hollow, but her blush seemed genuine.

"I . . ." L stopped his thought before it completed, staring at her. "I believe that you and Geoff make a better couple."

"Well, yeah – I hope so, anyway." She nodded rapidly, looking away. "Thanks again, and I'll see you around!" Janine waved brightly, as though she was far away instead of within arms' reach, and then walked past L, nearly running into a groundskeeper in a dark grey jumpsuit crossing the path.

L watched them diverge, Janine heading toward the dorm and the man heading across campus away from the hospital, sun glinting off the back of his bald pate before a shadow doused the glare. A huge fist of a storm cloud was shifting to shield the sun, and a few fat drops were already starting to fall. Glimpsing Maulty's lanky form propped against a tree, L sighed and turned toward his chosen destination, not caring about the rain yet anxious to get back to the comparison of patterns and trends, of conflicts and motivations, of the solutions of the puzzles of people.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Eyes darting, he waited a few moments longer. Despite being certain that he'd lost Maulty in the lunch crowd hours before, L did not want him to reappear while he was still close to the covered opening behind the cafeteria. He'd wanted to check the rudimentary traps he'd set to determine if anyone was going in or out of it. Crouching next to discarded beer bottles in the scrub brush next to the rusted cover, he could see that the fishing line was still attached and the tape was unbroken, though there were several footprints, some of them appearing to be recent, disturbing the ground after Thursday's rain.

Frowning, L stood. _Perhaps the Butcher does not use this opening at all_, he thought, _and the footprints are merely from drunken students_. L sidled along the wall, peeking past the corner of the large building. A few distant groups of students were milling about closer to the dorms, but Maulty was nowhere in sight. Feeling more at ease, but no less disappointed, L slipped around the corner and slunk off across the grass, avoiding the pathways for now. He rubbed the smooth bulk in his pocket as he walked. It wasn't buzzing, to his relief.

The cafeteria was more sparsely populated now, which L speculated was likely because of the dance this evening. He could already see numerous students, paired and dressed up, heading off-campus for dinner prior to le Bal de la Moisson. Janine was among them, standing just outside the dorm nearer to the access road than the footpath, scanning the horizon and looking nervous. She was wearing a full-length off-shoulder emerald evening gown, standing out in a sea of mostly black, pink, red, and grey. She did not notice L passing by several meters away, for which he was grateful – she had been distracting enough before she'd worn clothing accentuating her décolletage.

Turning away and shaking the image from his head, L moved swiftly, intending to check behind a few more buildings. When Aleister had stayed with him, he'd had more of a chance to explore the campus unobserved, and though he hadn't found anything unusual, he was determined to get a second look at things. _It is always possible to miss something obvious if one does not yet have the proper context_, L thought. _Though I can remember the details of each location I investigated, I may reach new conclusions if I review every location for something out of place_.

L was already planning his excursion into the hole behind the cafeteria. He had told Watari that he would continue to observe from a distance, but he was tired of waiting. Though there was no pattern for the Butcher's body part drops, the murderer seemed to favor the hours just before dawn – approximately 61% of the drops fit that time frame. _Late evening tomorrow will be a good time to enter and investigate directly_, L thought. Sneakered feet crossing another unfollowed path, L moved toward the next building.

Vibration tickled his fingers, and he rolled his eyes, veering off to find a suitably large tree and lean against it, scanning around him. L brought the phone to his ear. "Yes?"

"Checking the cameras?"

"I am. As well as ascertaining that I have not missed anything."

Watari paused. "You wanted to discuss your conclusions from your examination of Coil's case files, did you not?"

"I will once I have reached them. However, there are some gaps in the reports – at least one of them is missing. You recall your source for the information?"

"Yes, of course, Roger sent them along –"

"Then please find out where he obtained them. Our internal records should be complete. He has the access code, yes?"

"Yes, he does."

"Then please make sure that nothing has corrupted our in-house data and forward any additional information you find to me."

"The records on Coil's cases seemed complete when I scanned them . . ." Watari trailed off, giving L the impression that he was looking them up as he spoke.

"There is a span of an entire year with no case files, and I distinctly recall there being at least one case he worked on during that time. Also, one of the later files seemed incomplete – some photos and witness statements were missing."

"Hmm . . ." The silence stretched out for a few moments. "Ah. I see the gap. Which file seemed incomplete?"

"You recall the case in which a red silk blouse was used as a restraint?" L's eyes continued to scan. He wanted to avoid known specifics where possible in the event that he was being observed, though he did not see anyone in his immediate vicinity.

"What was the date?"

"It occurred within the year following the gap."

"Was it the – aha, there it is." A tapping sound carried faintly over the line. "The document does not appear to be altered, but we are looking at a digital record rather than the physical file. Very well, I will contact Roger and investigate the discrepancies. Once we've found the missing information, I will forward it to you immediately."

"Thank you."

"One more thing – you do realize that by inspecting these locations that you are potentially drawing Officer Maulty's attention to them?"

"I managed to shake him earlier, but if he happens to pick up my trail again and finds something of import in the locations after I've moved on, then that will help the case. And if I lose him again because he's stopped to inspect, then that works in my favor as well."

"Best possible outcomes notwithstanding, you should be careful about others seeing you. Maulty may be overzealous, but the other police officers may lend his theories credence should you be spotted behaving suspiciously by students or university employees."

L huffed. "I am aware of the risks. I am not concerned about the misguided perceptions of others."

"And I'm well aware of _that_." Watari was terse. "Just be quick about it – I'll have the missing information for you soon enough."

L opened his mouth to reply when he heard the line click. Pocketing the phone, he decided that he would check just one last building before returning to his dorm room – not because of Watari's warning, of course, but because the sun would be going down in a little over an hour, and because reviewing the case files was more urgent. _The key is within those records, I know it_, L thought, pushing off from the tree and ambling toward the Palmerston Administrative Building. _I need only find it to unlock the truth of this case_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: Hmm. So we know what happened to Beyond – or do we? He is a wily sort, so one never knows . . . It does seem that Janine and L are on better terms now. And L is sneaking around campus and looking into Coil's past – we shall see if that helps him.

**ATTENTION: Next chapter, this fic is changing to rated M.** As in, I will be changing the rating of the entire fic to M, which will change where the fic will appear on this site. If you want to keep reading it and you haven't added it to your alerts, just make sure to look in the M-rated category, or you can do a search for it by title or look for it under my profile.

Thanks for reading!


	16. Froth Flung High

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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_I'm everyone (I'm everyone)_

_Hang your label on me_

_I'm everyone (I'm everyone)_

_Paint it black and white and easy_

_I've seen attention_

_See through me_

_I want perfection_

_I'm real need_

_Call on me (call on me)_

_Spin spin sugar_

_Crawl on me (crawl on me)_

_Spin spin sugar_

_Stinks on me (stinks on me)_

_Spin spin sugar_

_Twists for me (twists for me)_

_Spin spin sugar_

– excerpt from "Spin Spin Sugar", Sneaker Pimps

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 16: Froth Flung High

"I have a bad feeling about this evening."

He had not been the intended audience for that remark, but his sharp ears had picked it up in the otherwise silent suite, coming through the secure cell phone Watari held. He did not recall exactly what Watari had said in response, but the reassuring reply had not erased the disquiet induced by the uncharacteristic statement. _L is usually annoyingly confident_, Aleister thought, _and he never goes on about his feelings, or acknowledges having them for that matter_. Aleister had plenty of bad feelings about this evening, and potentially all evenings until the investigation was over, but to hear L say that . . . _I'd best keep an eye on him_, he thought.

The feeds had been divided among the three of them at L's behest. Watari's explanation was that L thought the Butcher was likely to engineer a drop to coincide with the Bal de la Moisson occurring on campus – the harvest theme seemed too ripe for the murderer not to bite. Aleister had wondered aloud whether they should have planted cameras within the ballroom, and Watari, though conceding he had a point, had said that it was too late to do so unnoticed. They would need to compensate by paying special attention to the cameras nearest to Trinity Hall, which housed the ballroom.

When he'd moved into Watari's two-bedroom suite just outside Toronto, Aleister had been surprised at the amount of space that had been procured, but he later surmised that the older man had intended the second bedroom to go to L once L gave up the notion of needing to immerse himself on campus. _It seems I'm not the only one underestimating L's stubbornness_, he thought, opening a separate window on his computer screen. He'd pulled the desk in his small room out from the corner so that his back would neither be to the door or the window when he was at it, and though he supposed his rearrangement was unnecessary, Watari hadn't said anything to him about it. The crisply made bed was just visible past the computer monitor, the floral coverlet waging less of an assault on his eyes now that the lights were low and night had fallen.

Aleister kept one window on his screen fixed on a view of L's room as he scrolled through the other camera feeds assigned to him in the other window. His view of Trinity Hall was of one side where a path connected it to a parking lot, but he knew L had a prime view of the front entrance. Different views of the many pathways between the university and the hospital flitted by his eyes, none of them revealing anything unusual. _Yet_, he cautioned himself. Aleister knew that L was watching a number of on-campus sites, including views of the capped opening behind the cafeteria and the paths and buildings between it and Trinity Hall. For his part, Watari was watching locations closer to the hospital and a few by the Admin Building, as well as the now-vacated hotel room he'd shared with Beyond. Aleister knew that Watari was trying to spare him the pain, and he wished that he had had the strength to argue with him.

With each new view he switched to in one window, he flicked his eyes briefly to the other. _No real need to keep watch on Mr. Bump-on-a-Log_, Aleister thought; _he'll likely not move all night_. _I'm just being paranoid_. Aleister sighed. _Steady on and keep watch – anything could lead us to catch the murderer and find Beyond_. Jaw locked, he swallowed and kept clicking through feeds.

Something caught his eye as he paused on a view of the path near the birdbath – but not in that window. Aleister glanced at the other one and saw L stepping down from the bed, an annoyed expression on his face. Before he turned back to the other feeds, the light from L's monitor went out, dropping his room into darkness. _He . . . did he just turn off his computer?_ Aleister wondered, aghast. After a moment, the overhead light went on, and Aleister could see L approaching the door. A woman entered the room, to L's apparent consternation, and she gestured dismissively at him. Aleister found himself automatically extracting his headphones and accessing the audio for the room.

"Nonetheless, I do not recall inviting you in." L's dry tone entered his ears.

"Good thing I wasn't waiting then." The woman's voice was playfully defiant. Aleister knew he'd seen her, though they had not spoken to each other.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I knew you'd be here, dummy."

Aleister stifled a laugh at the notion of anyone calling L stupid. _Now I remember –_ _Danielle, isn't it?_ Aleister thought. _She's the roommate of the sort of Lisa Loeb-looking one, Janine, I think_.

"That does not –"

"Look, I've been trying to figure you out since you got here, and I think I finally got it."

"Oh really." Seeming resigned, L finally shut his door and took a few steps toward her. "Then by all means enlighten me."

"Don't worry, I will. At first, I figured you were just another smart weirdo – no shortage of _those_ around here – but something about you always seemed a little more . . . _off_ than most." Danielle tossed her blonde ponytail, and Aleister wondered if this situation was going to warrant intervention on L's behalf. He noted that L had adjusted his position so that he could assume a fighting stance if the need arose, so Aleister chose not to raise the alarm yet.

"You have consistently referred to me as a 'freak,' so I fail to see how this represents any variation on that assessment."

"Oh, you are a freak. Just not the kind most people take you for." Danielle gave L an appraising look. "Did you know that I had to talk Janine down from thinking you were this murderer?"

L lowered his brow, glaring through his hair. "I did not."

"When they showed you in handcuffs on the news, she freaked out – a lot of people did. She was like, 'I can't believe it was him the whole time, and I didn't know it.' She didn't tell anyone but me, and I told her she was wrong."

L's body seemed to be tensing. "And how would you know that?"

"You're not the type."

"What a coherent evaluation." Sarcasm suffused L's voice. "So essentially, you have no proof that I'm not a murderer."

"See, it's shit like _that_ that makes people think you are, Zeke. But I never said you weren't a murderer. You're just not the type to be _this_ murderer."

Eyes widening, L straightened up slightly. "Interesting. What is your reasoning?"

Danielle smiled. "OK, first, you're very methodical. The way you eat, the way you stack things," she gestured to the tower of textbooks looming next to the desk, "the way you do pretty much everything. You have systems for your behaviors, and probably rationalizations for each system. That's definitely at odds with the way the Missing Parts Killer, or whatever we're supposed to call that fuck, is doing stuff. He's chucking body parts all over with no real rhyme or reason."

"I do not believe that he has no system or reasoning behind his actions." L was frowning.

"Maybe so, but it's not the kind of system you would think up. You're way too picky and organized to be that haphazard."

"I'm not sure that I –"

"Let me finish," Danielle interrupted. "Second, you like solving puzzles, not making them. I've seen you do it – any crossword puzzle you find lying around, the old Rubik's Cube Allison brought to your cakefest, the way you do your homework, whatever. Even finding that lady's cat last month was a puzzle for you. This murderer? He's not trying to solve anything. That asshole just wants everyone to jump to his tune. He wants attention – another thing you don't like."

"Speaking of . . ."

"_Third_, the killer isn't interested in connecting with people except to take them apart, but you've actually been muddling through a bunch of social stuff that you've obviously never dealt with before. It interests you enough that you're trying to understand it – like it's another puzzle, basically. The murderer doesn't give a shit about human beings! This is some kind of fucking _game_ to him. He's toying with people like they don't mean anything. And then there's the fourth reason." Danielle jabbed a finger in L's direction. "You're keeping a secret."

Aleister held his breath, and it looked like L was holding his as well.

"You don't want anyone to know that you're not a jerk at all!"

L exhaled audibly, his eyes half-lidded. "I assure you, I can find several reliable sources who would disagree with you."

"Oh, I'm sure. But here are two clear examples to prove them wrong: one, _you rescued a fucking cat_. Seriously? It doesn't get more classic good guy than that. And two, you set the girl you obviously like up on a date with another guy, who also likes her, because you wanted them to be _happy_." Danielle folded her arms, expression triumphant.

"You are presuming positive motivations for my actions. You have no proof of why I did either of those things."

"Uh-huh. I'm pretty good at reading people. If what I just said was untrue, you wouldn't be blushing."

"That's – even if that's so, this has nothing to do with the murderer." L's tone was clipped.

"Please – some sick motherfucker who chops people up and leaves their parts out like Easter eggs to be found has no human empathy. To do what you did, empathy is required. Therefore, you're not the killer."

L stared at her for a few moments. "Is that all you needed to tell me? Because I have a number of things I need to work on . . ."

"They can wait." Danielle took a few steps toward L. "I came here to help you."

The sound of L's sharp exhalation carried in the room. "What exactly do you think you can help me with?"

"Well, back when that whole kiss-tastrophe went down with you and Janine, I thought you _were_ a jerk, or gay, or both. But I've watched you since then. You weren't pissed off or snickering about it to friends later. I caught you giving her the sad puppy eyes a couple times, but you didn't try to win her back. You gave her space – which she needed, by the way – and then you . . . unselfishly fixed her up with someone you knew would be nice to her. It's been awhile since I've seen her so happy, you know?" Danielle's smile seemed unguarded. "I think she and Geoff make a great couple."

"I am glad that you think so." L's tone was droll. "Now –"

"So you wanted her to be happy, which is awesome. But _you_ didn't want to be happy."

L blinked. "My emotional state is irrelevant."

"Is it?"

"If your goal in coming here was to make me happy," L said, rolling his eyes, "I'm afraid you've missed your mark."

"Then I'll get to the point. You're a virgin, right?"

L's mouth popped open before he seemed to recover himself and reclose it, somehow failing to come up with a verbal response as silence hung between them.

"It's why you reacted badly to the kiss." Danielle's voice was slightly less brash. "I mean, I _get_ it, you're a prodigy, a brainiac – you've probably been ahead of the curve your whole life school-wise, but socially . . . not so much. So when it happened, it wasn't just the kiss itself, it was the implication of where it might lead. You freaked out."

"I did no such thing." L jammed his hands in his pockets, mouth twitching. "She caught me off-guard and I reacted badly."

"Chill, OK? I'm not here to rub your face in it."

"Really." L's eyes were half-lidded again, and he slouched past the blonde so that he was no longer between her and the door. "Your complete lack of taunting has won me over. How do you propose to help me, then?" His tone was biting as they both turned as if squaring off, facing each other next to the shaded window. "A lesson, perhaps?"

"Pretty much." Danielle closed the distance between them quickly, clasping L's face with both hands and kissing him. L's eyes bugged, and he seemed to struggle to free his hands from his pockets, but she broke the kiss before they emerged. "Look, Ezekiel, you did something nice and unselfish for my friend. And one day, you're going to meet someone else you want to be with. Don't you want to be better prepared?" She let her hands slip from him.

"There is . . . no guarantee that I will meet anyone I want to 'be with' as you put it, and it is extremely presumptuous of you to assume that I would want that, or that I would want _you_, for that matter, but my . . . preparations are entirely my concern. It makes no sense that you would want to 'help' me in this way. You do not like me." The torrent of words stopped, his eyes flashing.

"Correction: I didn't like you. I changed my mind."

"No one simply changes their mind."

"Who said it was simple?" She put a hand on her hip. "I'll phrase it your way: I reassessed my impression of you based on new information."

L glowered. "And what makes you think that I like you?"

"Nothing. Hell, it'd probably work in your favor if you don't like me since there'd be no chance you'd get attached."

"That's . . ." L shook his head as if to clear it. "Are you not concerned that your . . . 'being' with me might hurt Janine's feelings?"

"Well, I'm not going to tell her, and neither are you. The thing is, I agree with you. She deserves better than you. She deserves to date someone who can be there for her both physically and emotionally. That's why Geoff is right for her. He's shy, but he's not inexperienced or tactless."

Face blank again and hunching further, L took a step back, closer to the wall. "You're really convincing me. It must be your superior tact."

Danielle grinned. "I wouldn't waste tact on you. I figured the direct approach would work better. And if you didn't like the idea at all, you would have thrown me out by now." She took a step forward.

L was unmoving, staring at her as if that might cause her to disappear. "This is not appropriate, or logical."

"See, that's your problem right there – you're using logic. Doesn't apply."

"Incorrect. Logic always –"

Danielle stopped his mouth with her own, her hands slipping over his cheeks and tangling in his hair as she surged up against him, the curve of his back hitting the wall. L's hands pushed at her hips and then moved up to grip her shoulders, allowing him to pull back as he straightened.

"I _cannot_ do this."

Sighing, Danielle looked up at L. "I get it, OK? I'm not your first choice. Hell, I'm probably not even your hundredth choice. But whatever logical flaws you think you're finding, there's nothing wrong with us doing this. It's just sex. I'm not looking for a boyfriend, if that's what you're worried about."

"Is this a common practice for you?" L's tone sounded more withering than usual. "'Helping' people by teaching them how to fuck properly?"

Danielle laughed, her head tilted back. "You'd be my first student, actually." She tossed her ponytail back over her shoulder, blonde hair whisking past his knuckles. "But fucking is easy, dumbass. It's the _fear _you have to learn to get past."

"The . . . You think that I am _afraid?_" L's eyes seemed like they might burn holes through her.

"I know you're afraid. One little kiss scared you, so sex must seem terrifying."

Flicking his eyes at the ceiling, L dropped his hands from her shoulders and turned his gaze to the side, toward his abandoned computer. "I think that you are confusing terror with disinterest."

"Oh, I can prove you wrong on that one, too."

L regarded her warily, straightening his spine slightly as he pressed against the wall, away from her. "Unlikely."

Danielle raised an index finger. "Observe." Placing her hands on his collarbone, she let them slip down over his chest and belly as she moved closer. L averted his face to miss her lips, and she pressed them to his throat instead, her head inclining as she placed kisses from his adam's apple to the back edge of his jaw before capturing his earlobe in her teeth, sucking at it, causing his eyes to close for a moment. Danielle let her hands toy with the hem of his shirt before they diverged to grip his hips, her thumbs riding the edge of his hipbones. Tracing her tongue back down his neck, Danielle pressed against him as L stared at the ceiling, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Abruptly, she slipped her hands around to grab the curve of his butt, unmindful of L's gasp as she ground her hips into his.

"Wait . . ."

Danielle lifted her head and claimed his mouth once more, and after a moment, L bent closer, seeming to accommodate her. His hands were splayed against the wall behind him. Nearly a minute passed, their mouths open to each other, tongues entwining, before she pulled back and brought one hand around to trace the now-obvious outline pressing L's pants outward. "There," she said. "Proof. Definitely not disinterest."

"Response to stimuli. Unavoidable." L sounded out of breath.

"Exactly." Danielle smiled. "A completely normal human response, and therefore nothing to be afraid of. Since you're studying to become a doctor anyway, you should probably get familiar with all of the human bodily functions . . . directly."

"Mm. I expect my medical acumen to be best applied in research."

"Not all research happens in a lab."

They stared at each other, L jutting from the wall like an outsize wall sconce. Danielle tipped her head to one side, not pressing closer but not moving away, still smiling, still palming L's crotch.

L's mouth worked. "I . . ." His eyes darted away and back. "Will it take long?"

A throaty laugh spilled from Danielle. "I'm gonna guess probably not."

They stared at each other for a few seconds before L's hands came hesitantly off the wall to alight on Danielle's hips as her hands fell to her sides. Inclining his head, L seemed to be surveying her as terrain to be traversed. Full body scan complete, L met her eyes. An oddly unhinged expression appeared on his face, and he gripped her and spun, pinning her to the wall, his mouth swooping in to meet hers as if in hunger. A gap remained between their bodies, two empty parentheses, as Danielle brought her arms up and over his shoulders. L broke the kiss, tearing his mouth away only to move in again, worrying at her ear with teeth and tongue.

"Oh, you learn _fast_. That's good." Danielle reached up, entwining the fingers of one hand in his hair while tracing the other along his back.

Abruptly, L dodged back out of Danielle's grasp, face flushed and eyes wide. "I do not want it known that this has happened." He flicked his eyes to a corner of the room – a corner which housed a camera. Aleister jumped.

_He knows I'm watching!_ Aleister thought, not listening to the girl's response. _Wait – no, he didn't ask how we divided the camera feeds that he's not watching, so he likely thinks Watari is watching him_. _In fact, he probably said that because he'd rather Watari kept this from me, not the other way round_. Aleister flushed, torn between wanting to laugh or scream in anger. He considered turning away, shutting the window, and ignoring L completely, but he knew that the cameras were in L's room for one reason: to keep him safe. _If I look away, and he's harmed_ . . .

Grimacing, Aleister fumed at L for allowing himself to be seduced, for desiring someone who didn't really care about him, and for being able to feel desire, to feel anything, when Beyond was gone, when Beyond was . . . _No_, Aleister thought, _I've already decided Beyond's fate_. _He's alive_. _Now I've got to make sure L stays that way too_.

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He'd since lost track of the time, but didn't dare look away.

"There is something you failed to teach me."

Danielle snorted. "There's a whole _list_ of things I didn't teach you. This was Driver's Ed, not Advanced Stunt Driving." She gazed at him, propped up on her elbows. "So what'd I miss?"

"Proper condom etiquette." Still crouched over the puddle, L met her eyes. "I completely forgot about that until now. Not that I have any of them . . ."

Chuckling, Danielle tossed her hair so that it swept behind her in a golden wave. "Well, I actually brought one, but I got a little more . . . caught up in the moment than I expected. Don't worry about it, though. I know you must be clean since this is your first time – right?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Correct."

"And I promise, I'm clean too. Got myself tested after dumping the boyfriend five months ago – all clear."

"You have not had sexual intercourse since then?" L sounded surprised.

"Nope. Not 'til now." Danielle winked.

"What would you say are the odds of my having impregnated you?"

"Pretty low. I'm on the pill."

"Understood." L nodded, thumb at his mouth. "I suppose I should have ascertained all of this earlier."

"Yeah, but it's good you're thinking of it now." Danielle drew back, swinging her legs over and dismounting from the bed to stand facing away from him. "You'll remember for next time."

"Next time?" L raised his eyebrows, back straightening. "Will there be a follow-up lesson?"

Her smile was gentle as she cast a glance over her shoulder. "No. I mean the next time you have sex with someone." Danielle walked toward the tangle of clothes.

"Oh." L shifted on the bed, still crouching as he watched her dress. Tilting his head, he seemed to memorize the reverse process, pink and blue clothing slipping softly over flesh, concealing what had been hidden to him.

Shoving her knotted bra into a pocket, Danielle approached L. "Here." She tucked something square into his hand. "Keep it. For next time."

Taking it by the corner, L lifted the wrapped condom to eye-level. "Lubricated? That would hardly have been necessary."

Danielle laughed. "A little extra never hurts. See ya, Ezekiel." She turned to move toward the door.

"Wait." L hopped off the bed to stand next to her. "Thank you." He extended his hand.

Blinking at him in apparent disbelief, she shook his hand. "No problem. And I'll keep it a secret, like you asked, as long as you do too."

"Of course. I appreciate your discretion." L bowed his head slightly and let go of her hand.

Danielle took a few more steps to the door before hesitating and turning back. "Aw hell."

"Hm? What is –" L's mouth was stopped by hers once more, her fingers tracing his jawline as their tongues met one last time.

Breaking the kiss and pulling back, Danielle took a deep breath, her green eyes meeting his grey ones. "Last one. Promise." Turning on a heel, she moved swiftly to the door, swinging it open and shutting it behind her without another look back.

"As you wish," L mumbled absently.

He stood naked in the center of the room, staring as if he had forgotten something, or had been forgotten, his body a pale question mark. Though he was thin, he was no longer the knobby-kneed twelve-year-old he'd once been. L's lower ribs stood out, but not in such stark relief that he seemed starved. Between tennis and swimming – and judo and tai chi – he'd developed a bit of muscle tone that showed more when he moved. He no longer had reason to feel his childhood defensiveness about thin arms. The stark contrast between his pale skin and dark hair was almost jarring, yet held an appeal of its own – licorice and cream with hints of berry-pink in spots. L's head still seemed slightly too large for his body, though not so much that he resembled his old nickname "lollipop." The sight of him standing there, so close to adulthood, yet so far, alone in a distant room, was almost too much to bear.

Aleister removed the headphones, hands still shaking, and closed the separate window on his monitor that showed L's room. He maximized the other window as he continued to scroll through the other camera feeds. Light from the screen allowed him to find a tissue, and he mopped himself up, his face still hot, mind afire with conflicting emotions. Tissue spent, he tossed it, hearing it thud solidly at the bottom of the wastebasket. Aleister remembered catching L just after his thirteenth birthday in the Wammy House library with an anatomy book and The Joy of Sex open on a back table. At the time, L had said that he needed to understand why people were so motivated by sex that they sometimes committed unspeakable acts to obtain or defend it – things like rape, torture, and murder. L had characterized his interest as research.

_Was this research too?_ Aleister wondered, lips twisting. He understood the need for human contact, for release and relief, especially at times of high stress or in the wake of a loss. Understanding, however, was not the same as forgiveness. Aleister scowled, clicking through feed after feed, the champagne-tinged light of L's room popping up in the sequence in contrast to the shadowed greenery in every other image. _If the murderer gets away because of this_, Aleister thought, _if we don't find Beyond_ . . . _I will never forgive myself_. _Or L_.

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UPDATED Author's Note: My apologies to anyone who enjoyed the previous version of this chapter. It required some revision to remain on this site. Review if you like, or send me a message. If you have any questions, I'll do my best to answer.

I kept this entire section in Aleister's PoV, since he was observing, but I wanted to give the impression that he was transfixed by what he saw, so his thoughts didn't intrude too often on what was happening. Danielle's theories on why L isn't the murderer are interesting, but as with any individual's views, I'd take it with a grain of salt. She's smart, but she's not on L's level and she doesn't really have that detective mindset.

Thanks for reading!


	17. Venturi Effect

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/sex/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 17: Venturi Effect

Following a bomb blast, it would not be uncommon for a person to temporarily lose hearing, or vision, or to experience head trauma, assuming the person survived the explosion. Despite the non-incendiary nature of the detonation that L had just experienced, he felt somehow that his brain had not escaped unscathed. _Response to stimuli indeed_, he thought, absently chewing his thumb. Redressed in the clothes he'd allowed to be removed earlier, L crouched at the end of his still-mussed bed next to a nearly empty bag of Swedish Berries candy, staring at the glow from his computer monitor. His movements felt slow, as did his thoughts, as though biochemical euphoria had transformed his body to a leaden lump. _The sensations of intercourse are surprisingly more intense than that of masturbation_, L thought, _unless I have been masturbating incorrectly_. _A single example of intercourse is not statistically significant, of course, but given these aftereffects, it would be unwise of me to experiment frequently in order to make a better comparison_. _The effects are much too distracting_.

When she had arrived, L had rationalized hearing Danielle out as necessary to investigate her – until his physical responses had overwhelmed his judgment. He had expended 42 minutes on her visit, which was far more than he had intended, and it annoyed him that he was still recovering. _It does not help that her scent is still on me_, he thought, _but I will not make the mistake of showering on a Saturday again_. _Though her behavior in visiting me was suspicious, her reactions seemed genuine. I may need to watch her more closely from now on_. Realizing that he was still viewing the same camera feed he had been two minutes ago, L clicked to scroll to the next one with an irritated huff and tossed another chewy red candy into his mouth.

Many students were at the dance, primarily the junior and senior undergraduates, so the distribution of foot traffic was different from most Saturday nights – there was a greater density of people close to Trinity Hall and a reduced one elsewhere. L considered it more likely that a body part drop, if one did occur as he expected, would be located in one of the more deserted areas of campus, but L recognized the possibility that the Butcher might do the counter-intuitive thing and target a more populated area. _It is all a matter of how much he is willing to risk_, L thought, _and he does want his drops found_. He scrolled over to the feed closest to Trinity Hall and paused, watching well-dressed students mill around near the double-doors of the entrance, some of them smoking, honeyed light spilling from ballroom windows onto the circular cobbled promenade.

A flash of green satin caught his eye, but after leaning toward the screen to stare intently, L saw that it wasn't Janine. Ready to switch to the next feed, he found himself suddenly yawning. _That settles it_, he thought, _the sugar isn't enough – I need more coffee_. L pivoted, about to step down, when he stopped himself, eyes drawn back to the screen. The unknown student in the green dress was pointing, mouth open as though she was yelling something. Other students moved toward her, and a few passed her, heading in the direction of her finger. A tall student in a light grey suit stopped a few meters beyond her and turned, waving his arms and gesturing for people to step back. A shorter student in a dark suit and bowtie next to him took out a cellphone and seemed to dial it as other students huddled together at the edge of the cobbled circle.

Swiftly, L reached under the bed, grabbing his phone and dialing.

"Yes?"

"Wa – grandfather, I believe a body part has been discovered in the vicinity of Trinity Hall."

"Are you certain? Did you witness the drop?"

"I did not, as you likely know, but I am 63% certain." L continued to stare at the screen, observing the increasing agitation among the gathering of students. "Make that 78%."

"I . . . see. Should I place an anonymous call to –"

"I do not believe that will be necessary. I saw a student making a call from that location a moment ago. Did you notice any unusual activity in the areas near the Administrative Building?"

"No, I didn't. Student activity appears to be light elsewhere on campus tonight. The few people I saw traversing the areas I've been observing were not behaving suspiciously and did not resemble our composite picture of the man from the first drop you witnessed."

"Hm. Did . . . _he_ see anything?"

"Actually, he's right – hold on."

L waited, trying to listen to the hushed conversation over the line as he watched a crowd gather onscreen.

Watari sighed into the phone. "It appears that there has been more than one drop."

"There is a second one?"

"Second, and third."

L felt like his eyes were vibrating. "Am I to understand that this just happened?"

"That is my impression, yes."

"Put him on."

Rustling sounds preceded the voice. "I can't tell what both of them are, but they weren't there a moment ago, and I haven't seen anyone walk past where they're located."

"Yet you are certain that these are body parts?"

"I am." Aleister's tone was firm, if a bit breathless. "The blood was a bit of a giveaway on the one, and the other is obviously . . . well, it looks like a ribcage, stripped to the bone. It stands out in the moonlight."

"So, on an evening when all three of us were keeping watch, we managed to miss each of three drops by the Butcher." L rubbed his face with one hand.

"It seems some of us were watching a bit more closely than others," Aleister quipped.

L's hand froze on his face. With some effort, he pushed several thoughts from his mind. He swallowed, dropping his hand to his side. "I am not admonishing _you_," he said in a low voice, keeping his breathing steady. "You are certain that no one has discovered the drops since you noticed them?"

"Not as far as I can tell."

"Alright. Put grandfather back on."

"Whatever you may think –"

"_Please_."

More rustling followed before the older man spoke. "How would you like to proceed?"

"First, access the remote computer, scan the recordings for the three drop locations, and save any useful images. Then place an anonymous call to the police regarding the as-yet undiscovered drops. We need not let the Butcher select his discoverer-victims at this point. I –" L stopped, mouth open, watching a man onscreen in a dark hoodie waving a gun around, the crowd of students backing away from him on the promenade. _Is that_ . . . L's thought dissipated.

"What is it?"

"Officer Maulty is at the scene, behaving erratically." L watched as the officer swung around, aiming his gun into the darkness away from the Hall. "I believe I am due for a walk."

"That is inadvisable. In fact, I have to insist that you –"

"I'm afraid caution has not served me well during my time here." L interrupted. "Belay your call to the police for now, and keep an eye on all of the camera feeds." L's eyes followed Maulty's grey form as it slipped away from the ballroom lights, blending into the darkness between trees. "It is time for the hunter to become the hunted."

There was a long pause before Watari responded. "Please at least exercise some stealth."

"Of course." L stepped off the bed, tucking his feet into sneakers. "Oh, and if you do not hear from me within two hours, please tell the police to arrest Janine Noh and Danielle Thompson."

"Any particular reason?"

"Either they are both accomplices of the Butcher, or . . . the accomplice is Danielle, and Janine herself is the Butcher."

"I see. And you are certain of this?"

"The likelihood of my theory being correct is hovering right around 17%, but that percentage will go up markedly if I am intercepted. The timing of my distraction by Danielle is too convenient, and Janine's placement at the dance, while giving her the appearance of an alibi, would also allow her the opportunity to execute a drop there surreptitiously. It is possible that the other two may have been rigged – I expect the archival footage will show if that is what occurred. I have other theories, of course, but if you do not hear from me within the timeframe I specified, this is the one I would like you to focus on."

"Very well. I expect Aleister can fill me in on the nature of this distraction?"

"I am shocked that he has not done so already." L's tone was dry. "I will contact you as soon as I am able."

"Understood."

L ended the call, dropping the phone in his pocket. Stretching across the end of the bed, L reached into the candy bag with his fingertips, extracting several sweets which he plopped into his upturned mouth. He wasn't certain which of his hypotheses deserved the most scrutiny, but keeping Watari's focus on Janine and Danielle was in his interest for now. _Maulty's appearance was simply too timely_, he thought, _and I cannot rule out the possibility that he is the Butcher either. 22% for him_. _If Watari knew I believed that, he would try to persuade me not to follow him, and I do not have time to explain myself – Maulty has too much of a headstart as it is_. Shutting down the computer, L grabbed some items from his desk and rushed for the door, no longer needing coffee as adrenaline made the blood sing in his veins. Whatever path the officer may have taken, L had a pretty good idea of his destination.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

_Oh fragile thing, I had such high hopes for you – more than mere puppy or pet, you could have been Ishmael to my Ahab. If only __**my**__ pet had brought me better tools . . . No strength to squirm, your muscles confirm what your mind cannot give voice to. Your glistening brow, your sallow skin, your bulging eyes – how they roll upon waking, but soon, soon, you will wake no more. I would have let you recline, supine, divine, until you were fully spent, but I confess I need the space, and you do not pay rent_.

_Did you hear him? He snuffled his way in, his façade so thin, but I did not let him glimpse my precious prizes. He still thinks he's in control, how droll. Ah, the hound – he does not yet suspect he is my whale! I wonder which chosen scribe will try to retell his tale. No greater master than me will mark his fate, no greater truth will be his to elucidate. He would have loved to get his meaty hands on you. It's why I kept you secret. The hound will bay over his losses one day, sadder still that he did not defeat you, or truly know you, as I have_.

_Perhaps he will come back, and see us here, trembling and bent, smeared with sticky ink already drying. I will tuck you in, dear one – no need to spoil the surprise as my spoils spoil. There, there . . . there now. A lower pancake in the stack, you shall not want for syrup. We are all draped in flesh, so you may consider this a boon, one final windfall. I must attend my other prize, so much less wise, but she is the lever I must press for success. No tears now, sweet puppy. I will miss our conversations, and oh, I won't forget you, but look here and above, for I have given you more bones than you can bury. Truly a puppy's paradise, here in the fiery gaze of the beast that waits for you to be ready and longs to lick you clean_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

For as much as he'd wanted to enter it, the damp darkness was still off-putting, though he strove to ignore the sensation as he submersed himself into the aperture. _If I did not need a shower earlier_, he thought, _I certainly will now_.

Gripping cold rungs in rubber-gloved hands, L felt one sneakered foot meet ground and stepped down, relieved to have completed his climb. No one had been near the cafeteria when he'd approached, stealthily as promised, and circled around to breach the subterranean entrance. The tape seal and fishing line he'd rigged to the cover had been broken. _I wonder who I will find first_, L thought, _Maulty, or perhaps an accomplice_ . . .

L stood still, listening. Fingering a Swiss Army knife and mini-flashlight in one pocket and his cellphone in the other, he recalled the correspondence he'd read earlier. _Based on the information from the Planning Commission, this is obviously the abandoned train tunnel_, he thought, _though there were no tunnel designs in the file_. He heard dripping and rustling. The air was cool and fetid with no discernable breeze. The echoing of the ambient noise around him indicated that L was standing near the top of a T-intersection. If he could have split off two selves so that he could proceed in each of the three directions simultaneously, he would have done so, but that was impossible, and with Watari and Aleister occupied with other tasks and too far away in any event, he had to choose. Picturing the campus layout above him, L noted that one leg of the tunnel would lead toward the Administrative Building, one would lead toward the campus power plant, and one would lead toward the hospital. After mulling over whether his choice was too obvious, L nonetheless turned left and headed in the direction of the hospital.

Stubbing his toe a few minutes along was all he needed to convince him to use his flashlight. L supposed that his echoing shuffle had likely already alerted any observer to his presence, but using a light felt like conceding defeat. Sighing, he clicked it on and continued. _If Maulty is the Butcher_, he thought, _then his tailing me could have been an attempt to cover for some of his on-campus activities – if he was caught near evidence, he could have 'confessed' that he was conducting his own investigation and found it while following me, which could throw their suspicions off_. _However_ . . . L brought his gloved thumb to his lip before recoiling at the taste and dropping his hand to his side. _Putting that amount of time into a cover plan seems unlikely for a man as impatient as he seems to be, and too clever, not to mention the fact that the body part drops predate his tailing me by approximately three months, which would have required an alternate cover story for that duration_. L frowned. _The more I think about this, the less likely it seems that Maulty is the Butcher_. _8% now_. _The more likely scenario here is that he followed the Butcher, or an accomplice, from the scene of the drop near the dance_. _If that is what has occurred_ . . . _it will be extremely gratifying for him to concede that he was wrong about me_, L thought, sweeping the tunnel with the pinpoint of light, _but I cannot depend on serendipity for the solution to this case_.

He was able to move more quickly now that he could see where to step. The large tunnel was mostly dry, its sides rounded, with assorted detritus strewn about the floor. L managed to glimpse one rat scurrying along but knew by the sounds that there were more. He kept the beam low, scanning for evidence while maintaining a quick pace. _Could Janine really be the Butcher?_ L wondered, his gut twisting. He went over the details in his head again. There were several times when he knew she could not have made the drops, but he had not yet fully examined Danielle's schedule. _As long as one of them was available_, he thought, _it is possible_. L frowned, thinking of Janine's reactions at the blood drop. _If she truly is involved, either as an accomplice or as the murderer herself, then she is an incredibly gifted actress_. He continued to shuffle forward, considering what connections any of them could have to Coil's past cases.

Greys and browns were all that seemed to show in his flashlight's narrow glare, until a flash of red caught his eye. Bringing the beam to bear, L stared. A bright arc of what looked like blood adorned a swath of the tunnel beside him. Moving closer, he could see that it was still wet, driplines trickling down. _It smells like blood as well_, L thought, reaching for a paper towel in his back pocket. He daubed gently at the mess before folding the towel and re-pocketing it. _I wonder which body part this will match_. Stepping back, he flicked the light beam downward and regarded the blood pool he'd been standing in with distaste.

L swept the flashlight's beam over the entire section of tunnel in which he stood. By his estimation of the duration and direction of his walk, he was close to or possibly underneath the hospital. There was no body present in the tunnel, and L did not see anything resembling a body part, just the arc of blood with a pool and a trail leading away. _This is clearly arterial spray_, L thought, staring at the wall again, _and I do not see any nicks or holes to indicate gunshots, nor do I smell cordite_ . . . L warped his lip with his thumb, ignoring the taste of rubber. _Based on the pattern alone, I would say that this is the result of a wound made with a bladed weapon, most likely a knife, though possibly a sword_. Pointing the light down, he traced the messy trail of drag marks to where they stopped a few meters away – at the base of a ladder much like the one he'd descended.

Slipping his phone from his pocket, L prepared to dial, only to find that there was no signal. _Of course_, L thought, pocketing it again, _why would it work when I need it_. Sighing, he walked to the ladder, dragging his feet as he went to make his shoeprints less distinguishable next to the trail. L popped the flashlight's end in his mouth and started climbing.

Some of the rungs slipped in L's grasp, and he noted that this was due to the blood coating the ladder. L sighed through his nose, resigned to the fact that he had compromised more evidence. He hoped that the evidence he had yet to find would make up for the transgression. Continuing up, hand over hand until he reached the top, he saw, caught in the flashlight's beam, the cross-hatched markings of the lid above him. L extinguished the flashlight and dropped it back into his pocket, pressing up on the metal lid with his fists to peer from the darkness into grey gloom.

_This could be it_, L thought; _this area appears to be fully enclosed_. _It is possible that this is where the Butcher has been operating_. Setting the lid to one side with a faint clang, L stepped up and swiveled his head like a prairie dog in a hole. Dim ambient light allowed him to see that he was in a large room, of sorts. Concrete floor and walls, a raised ledge on a far wall with two industrial garage-style doors above it. To L's eye, it resembled a small loading bay, despite being walled in. A larger garage door was opposite the loading area, and next to that was a regular door from which the area's only illumination spilled. L didn't see anyone, and the floor seemed clear of debris, though the blood trail was visible as it led from the mouth of the tunnel toward the lighted corner. Climbing out, scraping his shoes on the lip of the opening, he left the cover off just in case he had to retreat back into the tunnel. Careful to move silently, L walked toward the lit door.

Hushed footsteps not quite as hushed as his own caused L to spin. He came to rest in a loose fighting stance, knees bent, the door he'd been walking toward still in his peripheral vision. The other footsteps stopped and he found himself facing something – someone – unexpected. They stared at each other.

_He's actually here himself?_ _That bastard!_ L thought without irony. Not that he'd ever met the man in person before, but he'd spoken with him on a few occasions and had managed to catch glimpses of him – L even had a photo of him from Brazil. Scanning head to toe, L took note of the man's attire: loose red shirt, dark blue jeans, black boots and gloves, and a messy black wig.

The man chuckled. "I have to say, I had not been expecting a child." He sounded faintly out of breath.

"Nor I an elderly fool in a wig. It seems quality minions are hard to come by."

"'Elderly'?" The man chortled indulgently. "You cut me to the quick! Yet I would say quality, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, wouldn't you?"

"Quality is proven by action. It is nothing so trifling as beauty." L longed to grab for his phone, but he did not doubt that the man, age notwithstanding, could disarm him if he did so. _Coil's brazenness in being here smacks of desperation_, L thought; _he might do anything_.

"You have an interesting point of view, my boy. It seems such a shame we haven't the time." Coil grinned, white teeth standing out in a face like a falling soufflé. "Tell you what – I'm a sporting fellow. I'll let you have a look at my evidence before I call in the dogs. Would you say thirty seconds is enough? Or do you need the full minute?"

L narrowed his eyes. "I would be foolish to bother with any obviously fabricated evidence of yours. If I –"

"Oh yes, _obviously_. Because I haven't been chasing the same murderer you have, no, not at _all_." Coil stepped toward L, getting between him and the opening from which L had emerged. "I'll be reporting my findings shortly. If you are not observant enough to be able to discern when evidence is genuine, then you're no quality minion at all – you're a failure."

"You would stoop to goading me? I would say the failure is yours."

Coil's laugh held a bitter edge. "That reminds me. I very much enjoyed your news appearance, why, almost five weeks ago, was it not? Quite amusing – almost as much as the disappearance of every recording of it immediately after it aired. Though I am sure that there must be someone out there who was recording live broadcasts of every news story regarding the Missing Parts case." His smile seemed predatory. "Your master must not be very happy with _you_."

"Almost as happy as yours must be for your bumbling attempts to get mine to solve his case for him." L kept his tone calm as he fought to contain his anger. Though he was growing weary of the charade of pretending to work for himself, L reasoned that it was better to maintain a sheen of plausible deniability in the event that there were recording devices present. _Where the fuck is Maulty?_ L wondered. _Did he encounter Coil or evade him?_ _Or did he simply go somewhere other than where I expected?_

"Oh, you've done enough bumbling for both of us, I think." Coil's grin stretched wider. "But let's not quibble. Do what you wish – examine the evidence, or do not. I will wait a full minute after exiting before I contact the authorities."

"And why would I let you leave?"

"Mon dieu, threats! From a mere wisp of a boy!" Coil laughed heartily, shaking his head. "You will let me leave because it will be inconvenient for you to keep me here. In addition to the fact that between the two of us, the police will consider me more credible. Or were you hoping for a close-up the next time you're on the news in their custody?"

L clenched his teeth, trying to contain the profanity that threatened to spill out. "Then I suppose you will do what _you_ wish, assuming that you are prepared for the consequences."

"Don't worry, my boy – I am." Coil inclined his head in a mock bow. "Enjoy your evening."

L glared as the man walked past him, a faint whiff of garlic and antiseptic trailing in his wake. "Give my regards to the pompous ass who employs you."

Coil's jovial laugh echoed behind him as he passed through the lit door. "Consider it done!"

L's eyes darted from the tunnel opening to the door that Coil had just entered, hearing the sound of another door opening and closing beyond it. _Even if this 'evidence' is false_, he thought, _it will give me some clue as to what Coil wants me to conclude_. _Attempting to deceive me will prove to be his downfall_. L took out his cellphone: still no signal. Sighing as he re-pocketed it and lamenting that he had not had time for coffee before leaving his room, L walked toward the light, wishing now that he'd kept pace with Coil in order to prevent the man from surprising him.

Crossing the threshold, L noted that the light was coming from a small desktop lamp. Dusty papers scattered the desk, a cobweb spanning from an inbox to its surface. The blood trail led toward a door opposite the one L stood in, stopping just before reaching it. L edged past the desk, careful not to step in any more blood, and regarded a large cloth-covered lump between the back of the desk chair and the file cabinets lining the wall. _This does not fit the Butcher's style at all_, he thought. _He leaves parts out, uncovered, and if he discarded the remainder of the bodies this way, we would have found them by now_. _It seems Coil cannot even manage a good fake, if it was his intention to mislead me_. _If he did not stage this, then it is possible that this is not even related to the case_.

Bent, gloved hand extended, L pinched the edge of the draping cloth with two knuckles and pulled. He stood, and his eyes widened. Maulty's empty eyes stared at the ceiling, a second smile sliced into his throat to replace the one he'd never shown in life. Several thoughts flitted through L's brain but all were silenced by a resounding clatter and boom coming from the other room.

Dimly registering that he'd opened the other door and was now running outside, L heard "Go, go, go!" from what sounded like a group of men behind him. Though they were not speaking to him, L heeded their advice. _He called them before we spoke_, L thought; _he must have_.

L did not have time to consider why Coil was trying to frame him for the murder of Maulty, let alone if or why Coil had committed the murder himself. He needed to focus on the very immediate business of escaping capture. Once he found a suitable place to hide, he could call Watari and plan his next move.

Sprinting between buildings toward the beckoning branches of the park, L kept his body low, his motions lithe despite his furious pace. He had underestimated Coil's ruthlessness, and now a man was dead because of it. _This debt is yours, Coil_, L thought, _and I will see that you pay it in full_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: So, a little bit of a cliffhanger – sorry about that. O_o I actually try to avoid those. I think perhaps L might have been thinking more clearly if he had not been 1. in need of sleep, 2. experiencing post-coital tiredness, 3. in need of caffeine, and 4. experiencing a sugar crash. Granted, that last one wouldn't have kicked in until he got to the hospital outbuilding, but . . . yeah. Wonder how far he'll get on his latest spike of adrenaline.

Also, I want to say thank you very much to those of you who have been leaving me reviews. I don't generally ask for them, because I feel that a review is worth more if it's been given freely, so I won't be cajoling or haranguing you guys for reviews. Just know that I really appreciate hearing from all of you. Getting feedback on what I'm writing makes my day. ^_^ So a special thanks to you guys, and thank you to everyone for reading!


	18. Maelstrom

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/sex/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note. Also, spoilers for one of my other fics, The Pull.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

_In theory he was still free, he could have carried on walking, through one of three dark little wooden doors not far in front of him and away from there. It would simply mean he had not understood, or that he had understood but chose not to pay attention to it. But if he once turned round he would be trapped; then he would have acknowledged that he had understood perfectly well._

– excerpt from _The Trial_, Franz Kafka

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 18: Maelstrom

The tickle and poke of tiny green leaves and close branches was distracting, but no more so than the stench of mulch. Fleetingly, he thought of the cat he'd found hiding in another set of bushes and wondered if it was better not to know in advance that one was doomed. In his own case, the bone of contention was much different than Lucy's.

Peering through the shrubbery in which he was ensconced, L watched for headlights and listened for a familiar engine. It was past time for him to be picked up. In his escape from the location of Maulty's body in a hospital outbuilding that had fallen into disuse, he'd been glimpsed once from the back, but no one had gotten close. He'd been lucky. He was glad he'd worn his black "ninja" jeans and a green shirt today – white would have stood out too well, and he was not prepared to surrender. L thought back to Coil's outfit, the wig in particular, and scowled. _He does not resemble me at all – perhaps he thought inducing 'reasonable doubt' in future eyewitness testimony would be enough to convict without real evidence_, he thought, _though his primary purpose was obviously to mislead Maulty into pursuing him as if he were me_. _The fact that Coil knew even rudimentary details of my appearance is disquieting enough_. _I had believed that I had disguised myself better in Brazil_. _Perhaps he is not as incompetent a detective as I had concluded_.

The soothing thrum of an approaching limousine cheered L as he crouched, waiting. In the distance, a police siren still wailed, but L no longer heard rustling or the voices of men. The limo slowed to a stop near the worn bench at the curb, headlights flashing twice before going dark. After a moment, the driver's side door opened, and Watari stepped into view, staring over the hood of the car.

Exhaling in relief, L slipped out of the bushes, hunched low, hastening past the bench to the back passenger door and opening it. He entered and closed the door without much noise, shoes slipping to the floor as he took his perch on the wide leather seat. Without looking back, Watari re-entered the limousine and drove it forward, clicking the headlights on after a few meters and pulling away from the park, away from the police still searching for Maulty's killer. For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

L looked out the window, watching trees and buildings flit by as they turned away from campus. He felt surprisingly calm, as though his anger had split off from him to hover like a red balloon dancing just out of reach. Removing his blue gloves with a snap and laying them inside out on the smooth grey leather next to him, he reached for the dish of candies on the sideboard, unwrapping one and popping it in his mouth. Butterscotch wasn't his first choice, but it still tasted good, the rich sweetness coating his tongue.

"It is advantageous that tonight's dance has induced multiple students to rent limousines," L said. "Ours will not stand out in the least."

"Mm."

The sugar was helping. L felt he was thinking more clearly now. Pressing his thumb to his lip, his nose an inch from the window glass, he wondered if Coil was only working with the Butcher, or if he was actually the Butcher himself. _How abominable to have taken people's lives just to seem to solve a case, if that is what he's been doing_, L thought. _Becoming a murderer merely to bolster one's reputation would be unforgiveable, unspeakable_ . . . _Certainly Coil is likely to have killed Officer Maulty, at about 93%, though I have no objective proof of that_. _It will be interesting to see what evidence police turn up at the scene, other than any evidence that incorrectly implicates me_.

"Aleister has been listening to the police band for information."

L nodded absently. "That is good, Watari. I wonder if –"

"You failed to mention that the deceased person was the officer who was following you in his spare time." There was a chill to the older man's tone.

L blinked. "I apologize for not going into more detail over the phone. Once I was able to get a signal, I was actively seeking to avoid detection."

"I do understand the need for stealth, but adding a word or two to that effect would have been well within your purview."

"Perhaps. But I knew that I would brief you more fully in person, so I focused on the priority of my escape."

Watari turned off the road, pulling the limousine behind a hydroelectric pumping station, staying out of the streetlights' glare and parking in shadow. He turned the engine off. A steady whooshing could be heard, though the river could not be seen from their vantage point. For a long moment, he continued staring straight ahead, both hands on the steering wheel.

Tilting his head, L wondered what the man was thinking. "Watari, we must continue moving if we –"

"_Did_ the hunter become the hunted, L?" The older man met his eyes in the rear view mirror.

L raised an eyebrow. "I . . . am still hunting the Butcher, and I am closer than I was before . . ."

"You said those words just prior to your pursuit of Officer Maulty. And now he is deceased."

"It was my assessment at the time that Maulty was in pursuit of the Butcher," L said, deciding not to mention his suspicions of Maulty himself, all too aware of the man's blood marring his clothing and shoes. "I followed him with the intention of seeing if he would lead me to the murderer. I did not expect him to be killed, and I did not anticipate being led into a trap by Coil."

"A trap?"

"Yes. Coil murdered him and intentionally drew my attention to the body, even leaving a blood trail in the tunnel to lead me to the correct exit."

"Do you realize what you are saying?" Watari turned in his seat to face L, expression unreadable. "Coil may be many things, including pompous and unscrupulous, but he is loathe to dirty his own hands even to trap a rival. I am quite familiar with his tactics, as you may recall."

"I was unable to determine conclusively whether Coil murdered Maulty himself or the Butcher did, though Coil is the more likely candidate of the two, given the circumstances." Hands placed lightly on his knees, L gazed toward the vehicle's ceiling. "Maulty's death does not fit the Butcher's pattern – then again, I was unable to determine if a body part was removed from him. It is possible that this crime is not directly related to the Butcher's killings. I would put that at about 11%. Given the timing of this, however, and the locations involved, I would say the most likely scenario is that Coil and the Butcher are working together, at 71%, since it would be in their mutual interest to discredit me."

"Why would they be working together?"

"Coil is stooping to new lows in order to bolster his reputation. It is –"

"This is no mere matter of _status_. What proof was there that Coil did this?"

"Well . . . he was present at the scene. He took great pains to gloat about –"

"_What?_" Watari's normally placid expression was broken by a scowl.

"He pretended to be his own minion, as did I, but he was wearing a black wig in a sad attempt to mimic my appearance."

"Are you certain that mimicry was his intent?"

"I am only 62% certain of that, considering how pathetic his attempt was." L's eyes became half-lidded. "He . . . recognized my alternate identity, though it seems likely based on his reaction that he did not put that together until we met tonight. He may possess a recording of my news appearance, by the way, so we will have to handle that at some point."

Sighing, Watari shook his head. "You were very eager to investigate this case in person and infiltrate the school, to the point where I wondered about your motivation. It's as if you thought you had something to prove, and that is a dangerous mindset indeed."

"So you did not consider that I might have wanted a medical education?" L kept his tone flippant, in contrast to the growing knot in his stomach.

"I considered that, yes, much as I considered the possibility that you might want a bit more independence as well as the opportunity to experience more normal social interactions for your age group. Whether these factors drove your decision or not, the decisions you've made since then have shown a disquieting lack of foresight. Your personal involvement has been to your detriment."

"I disagree. I have learned quite a lot about this case and about people in general from my experiences here, but we can discuss that another time. Our most urgent priority is dealing with Coil now that he has shown that he is willing to kill out of self-interest."

Watari breathed silently for a moment, seeming to marshal his thoughts as he stared at L. "Did you see him kill Maulty?"

"No. He was –"

"Were his clothes bloodied?" Watari eyes surveyed L's clothing.

"I . . . They did not seem to be, though his shirt was red, so blood might not have shown. It is possible that he changed clothing before I arrived at the hospital, though he would not have had much time, considering the relative freshness of the blood at the crime scene. I suspect that Maulty and he had met before – otherwise, Coil would likely have had trouble subduing him."

"Did you obtain any solid evidence of Coil's involvement?"

"Had the police not arrived so quickly, I might have. I am hopeful that they will find proof of Coil's guilt, but whether they do or not, I must proceed with the knowledge that Coil is working with the Butcher."

"And that doesn't strike you as at all convenient?"

"It is extremely _inconvenient_, Watari."

"Eraldo Coil, the rival detective whom you detest, working with the Butcher, a criminal whom you have yet to catch – it smacks of paranoia. And this police officer, a person for whom you expressed acute dislike, is now dead."

L crunched the last of the candy, swallowing shards. "Whatever my personal feelings, I did not wish him dead."

"You are missing my point." Watari's eyes bored into L's. "Maulty pursued you with the intention of arresting you for the Butcher's murders. The actions he took against you were personal. He was a threat to you. Whatever his colleagues may have thought of him, Maulty could potentially have built a case against you, which would have been to Coil's advantage in terms of discrediting or delaying you – a _much _more likely scenario than Coil murdering him instead. Coil tends to delegate and manipulate rather than involve himself directly, and you've had direct experience with that. I do know that you have struggled to control your anger. We dedicated quite a bit of training time this summer to curb it, and you have made progress. However, the nature of this incident, and your reaction to it, raises questions." Taking a deep breath, Watari paused. "You say you have no evidence, yet there is evidence upon you, all of which could have an alternate explanation to the one you're offering me."

Mouth slightly open, L stared, numb. "You . . . believe that I am capable of murder?"

Watari's expression was stony. "I am not unaware of the circumstances that followed your parents' deaths. At the time, I took into account your age and the . . . severity of your loss. You have saved many lives in the work you have done to this point. You stand to save many more in the future, providing you retain some self-control. However, if one is capable of something once, then one is capable of it once again."

"I did not do this." L's response was terse, his lips pressed together.

"Regardless of what may have happened tonight, we must distance you from this incident at once."

"I _did not_ do this." The anger that had been bobbing just out of reach loomed closer, and L gripped his knees, fingertips whitening, trying to keep his breathing even, trying to keep the feeling from merging with him.

"I will not allow you to jeopardize all we have accomplished by possibly getting yourself arrested for murder, whether you committed it or not. This is damage control at this point."

"_I did not murder him!_" L's shout rang in the closed space of the limo, and he was suddenly aware that he was shaking.

"You are a critical asset, one that must be protected at all costs. You cannot remain here without compromising your identity and thus your role in the world." Watari turned back around and re-started the engine. "We're done here, L."

Muscles tensing, L lurched forward, toes gripping the edge of the leather seat, right hand grasping the seat back in front of him, voice dropping nearly an octave. "If you force this 'solution' on me, I will abrogate my 'role in the world' altogether. I will _pull the plug_. I will expose our operation in its entirety, including absolutely everyone involved, unless you allow me to complete my investigation. Every secret you have concealed, including my own, will be told to the world at large."

"That would accomplish nothing. Threats are not your way out of this."

"I already have the means to do this at my disposal, Watari. You may ask Roger about the 'minor security breach' at Wammy House ten months ago and draw your own conclusions if you doubt me." A strand of hair rested on L's nose, slashing his view of the older man in the driver's seat.

Watari's eyes flicked to meet L's in the rear view mirror. "You would be a fool to throw your life away by taking such action, and the harm you would inflict upon others would be unconscionable."

"Then allow me to finish."

"It's out of the question."

"Do you suppose that you will make regular trips to visit Roger in Yemen, once he's extradited for trial? Or will you move there to be closer to him before they carry out his execution? It would be the least you could do, considering your role, despite the fact that the evidence you suppressed only implicates him."

Mouth a thin line, Watari twisted to face him. "Resorting to blackmail only underlines my concerns, and my conviction."

"Fittingly, considering that you have already convicted me in your mind." L's eyes flashed. "Since I cannot rely on you to believe me, I must resort to other methods to gain results. As you must know by now, results are what I care most about. Being a detective is what I am good at, and it is all I can truly call my own. If you try to take it from me, I _will_ expose everything. Unless, of course, you intend to murder me yourself, right here. In which case, only some secrets will become exposed."

They stared at each other over the seat back, the fading flush on L's face in sharp contrast to the growing pallor on Watari's, the idling engine almost drowning out the sound of distant rushing water. That Watari thought him a murderer cut L to his core. If not even this man believed him . . . it changed everything. Every death was a debt, whether he was directly responsible or not, and L had to pay every debt back – not with more death, but with justice. He'd learned that lesson young, and he had not forgotten.

Only Watari and Aleister knew how important justice was to L. Among the others at Wammy House, and to anyone in law enforcement, it suited L for them to believe that he cared only for the solution of crimes as puzzles, a detective who chose cases according to status and whim. It would not do for anyone to know that he found something – anything – important. _Caring about something is a weakness_, L thought, _because it means one has something to lose_. _If others knew, they would use that knowledge against me, just as Watari is doing now_.

When L had taken his pre-emptive information-accruing measures ten months ago, he had done so as insurance. He had not expected to be using this leverage so soon, and not against Watari. He'd been anticipating that Roger would try and put a stop to their investigations, given the man's constant grousing over Watari's absences. _Paranoia may be overrated_, L thought, _but it has proven useful_. He would not back down. If his role as an agent of justice was stripped from him, L would be unable to repay the debts still due, the lives already lost. Consequently, with everything he cared about on the verge of being taken away, L had nothing to lose. He did not blink. He stared deep into the watery blue eyes of the man he'd thought of as his one true ally.

Watari's eyes slipped to the grey divide between them. "If you so much as set foot in that dorm, they will arrest you." His voice sounded older, shaky. "We are fortunate that the police have not noticed the fingerprint alteration I made to the record they created when they brought you in for questioning, but there is still unaltered footage of you from the security cameras within the police station. We must prevent any images or other pertinent data on you from being shared with other organizations. It will be too difficult to control where the information goes, once disseminated."

"Nonsense." L spoke briskly, muscles still quaking slightly. "I expect even little Matt could take care of that quickly. Should the need arise, I may employ him on that very task if you do not feel up to it."

"L . . ." Watari slumped in his seat, still half-turned.

"Some items will need to be retrieved from my dorm room. Other items can be left behind, provided they are devoid of any DNA or fingerprints, to give the impression that Ezekiel Penn still resides there, or at the very least did not intend to remain away. We can plant the altered fingerprints there using the stamp you created, so that an absence of fingerprints won't cause suspicion."

"Yes, that can be done." Watari wouldn't meet his eyes. "How do you intend to carry on the investigation?"

"I will join you at your suite. If there is insufficient room, we will book an adjacent one. My immersion as a student is at an end. I will only use that identity as a last resort now." L fingered the worn business card in his back pocket. "I will make sure that the Butcher is brought to justice, and Coil will get his due as well. They _are_ connected, and I will find out how and expose them both." L pushed back, resuming his regular perched position on the seat. "We will need to work quickly, while Coil still thinks that I am at a loss."

Nodding, Watari sighed heavily and turned forward in his seat to put the limousine in drive.

L felt the shift. Exhaling slowly, he watched as they emerged from shadow and swept back onto the road, leaving the sound of gushing water behind them. The link between them was altered now. Running investigations had always been a joint effort. L had been the one drawing 96% of the conclusions, he'd been the one solving every case, but Watari had been a guide, a mentor, and as close to a parent as he'd had since his parents and grandmother had died. Watari's doubt and recrimination still burned like white fire inside L – the man's opinion meant too much to him for it not to hurt. But the shift had happened, as perhaps they'd known it one day would, and there was no going back. L was in charge now. The fates of everyone he knew, and many he did not, were in his hands alone.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

His hands still felt sweaty from the gloves, though he'd taken them off an hour ago. They'd worked in silence, methodically. Not once did the expected admonishment come. _Oh, who am I kidding – he likely knows exactly why I didn't tell him what L had got up to_, Aleister thought. _I'm lucky he didn't make me clean up the sheets_.

The process of cleaning up L's dorm room had taken less time than he'd expected, but it'd been nerve-wracking just the same. After securing all of L's equipment and everything he'd stashed around the room – case files, maps, and snack cakes alike – Aleister and Watari had wiped everything down, put new sheets on the bed, and replaced L's computer (excepting the monitor) with a regular one, copying "Ezekiel's" schoolwork onto it in case the police obtained the hard drive. Watari had used the same rubber stamp he'd used at the police station to place altered fingerprints around the room as well. Exiting the dorm, still wearing their Heating and A/C uniforms, Aleister had been surprised that the few students they'd encountered had barely glanced their way considering the lateness of the hour. They'd heard police sirens as they'd driven away, but they'd been hearing those most of the night following the discovery of the police officer's body.

Watari walked around the side of the van and removed the magnet with the invented company name and phone number on it and then did the same on the other side. He handed the magnets and the false license plates to Aleister, who stashed them in their clean-up case, acutely aware that stealing and temporarily modifying a work van was well within the realm of things Beyond would do. He'd thought somehow that Watari would be above all that, even if the rest of them weren't.

"That's the last of it. Can you make the climb?"

Aleister looked from the suitcase and clean-up case at his feet to the two larger cases and drawstring laundry sack the older man was lifting. "I'll make it, yeah."

"Step on rocks and roots to avoid making shoe impressions wherever possible. Be careful not to fall, and stay as quiet as you can, but whistle if you need assistance." Watari turned and headed up the embankment, further away from the lights of the commercial parking lot from which they'd taken the van now parked back in its spot.

Despite knowing that their climb would be more challenging than their descent had been, Aleister hated being treated like a child. He supposed that it was second nature to Watari, who in all likelihood still saw him as a child, but this was the first time since he'd arrived in Toronto that he'd been made to feel like one. Watching where he stepped, he followed the man upward through the tangle of trees.

Something had happened. Something other than what he knew, though Aleister couldn't discern what. When Watari had called him to say that he was returning with L, his voice had sounded different – more measured, more deferential, almost blank. Aleister had brought down everything that Watari had asked for, taking the back way with a borrowed handcart, expecting to be filled in on all the details. Instead, they'd stood by the limo in silence as L had changed into the disguise Aleister had brought – navy blue suit, short blond wig and all – until L had emerged and told them what to do. _It's as though all of the Wammy has gone out of him, and all that's left is the shell of Watari_, Aleister thought, and shuddered.

Finally, he shouldered past the last tree, stepping over the curb of the higher parking lot, the Sojourner Suites sign shining down like an amber beacon. He quickened his pace to catch up to Watari, who was now opening the trunk of the limousine between pools of light near the hotel.

"Take that up to him, and this," Watari said, setting the case containing the computer at his feet. "I'll be disposing of several items and picking up a few things. Let him know that, please." He heaved the laundry bag and the clean-up case into the trunk with the other case and closed it.

"I will, but . . . what are we to do next?"

Watari did not meet his eye. "Ask him."

Aleister stared, dumbstruck for a moment, as Watari entered the vehicle and started it. Shaking himself, he lifted the cases off the pavement and walked away, making for the back entrance as the car pulled off. Arms straining, Aleister wished he hadn't put the borrowed handcart back where it belonged.

_Watari seemed livid, even afraid, when he left earlier_, Aleister thought, _and now he seems not to care_. _What the bloody hell happened?_ Crossing the back hall, he approached the elevators and pressed the up button, relieved when the doors to one opened immediately with no one else inside. He lugged his burdens into the car. _It can't be the sex thing_, he thought; _Watari didn't seem angry about that, just vaguely resigned_. _It was right after I turned the police band on_ . . .

A cheery ding announced his arrival on the seventeenth floor. Aleister emerged, lips pursed in thought, struggling down the hall with the heavy cases. _They said "Officer down!" and "It's Maulty!" right before Watari's expression changed_, Aleister thought, _but . . . well, L wouldn't have had anything to do with that_. _He's the type to outsmart and evade, not kill and run_. _Not even Beyond would_ . . . Aleister closed his eyes, setting the case on the carpet outside the suite door, steadying himself. _Could there be some connection between this Maulty and Beyond?_ _What aren't they telling me?_ Face flushed, Aleister dipped the keycard into the room lock and opened the door, propping it open with a knee as he dragged the cases in with him.

The door thudded to a close behind him as he moved past the closet and bathroom. As he rounded the corner of the tiny kitchen, a square of white paper on the floor caught his eye. "Open please" was written in familiar spiky handwriting on hotel notepaper. Aleister set the cases down and found himself automatically moving the few steps to the adjoining door, unshooting the bolt and opening it.

"Cozy?" There was no response from the darkened room, and Aleister wondered if he'd made a mistake. Hesitantly, he started to pull the door closed.

"Leave it."

Aleister sighed at L's perfunctory tone. _I don't want to face you any more than you want to face me_, he thought, _but there's nothing for it_. "Thought you might like to access your computer from the dorm."

"Mm. Yes, actually. Bring it in."

Rolling his eyes, Aleister turned and grabbed the heaviest case, lugging it over the threshold between the adjoining rooms. As he set it down, he noted that L was crouched on the floor, back to him, in front of a computer that was also on the floor. "There are desks, you know."

"I am avoiding windows and mirrors. Even augmented hotel curtains are inefficient at blocking outside surveillance."

"Right . . ." Aleister frowned, noting the duct tape on the curtains and opting not to ask about L's apparent escalation in paranoia. He stared at the computer, wondering if L had taken the one he'd been using. "Is that –"

"There was additional computer equipment in the chest, which I retrieved from hotel storage." L did not turn around, seeming to read a series of files at rapid speed. "I checked in under the alias Darrell Strawberry."

"Subtle. So, what's got Watari off his game?"

L sighed audibly. "I do not have time to banter with you, Aleister. If you wish to be useful, please bring me some coffee."

"If I –" Aleister huffed. "I'm not your bloody servant!"

"Is Watari here?"

"No, he's off –"

"Then yes, you are. Either be useful or be quiet. Actually, be quiet regardless."

"Fuck you, L." Aleister turned on a heel and walked out into the light of the main suite.

"That is no longer on my to do list." The faint sound of L's voice drifted from the darkness.

Aleister rubbed a hand over his eyes. Under other circumstances, he might think L was deliberately baiting him, but L's manner seemed too cold for that. _Fuck it – I'm washing up first_, Aleister thought. _His majesty's coffee can wait_. He marched into the bathroom and shut the door.

Running water felt cool on his hands as he soaped and rinsed. Aleister's eyes roamed the small, brightly-lit room, dodging to his own blue jumpsuit-clad image in the mirror and then away, going over recent events in his mind, but nothing seemed out of place, nothing seemed different. _Not physically, anyway_, he thought, taking down a fresh washcloth and wetting it. _They've argued about something, obviously, but what?_ Aleister wondered. Part of him wanted to drop it and ignore the discord, but he knew it was not in his nature to do so. Whether he chose to be subtle or blunt in his approach, he needed to know – he always needed to know. In many ways, he felt it was his downfall, this need.

Face and neck thoroughly scrubbed and pink for his efforts, Aleister exited the bathroom. The other case – the one containing some of L's clothes as well as printed case files, maps and notes, sugarcube bags, and snack cakes – stood out in the center of the suite, a black rectangle against sage green carpet. He considered leaving it where it was, but . . . _That won't get me anywhere_, he thought. _And I suppose I could use some coffee too, since it seems we're pulling an all-nighter_. Aleister stepped into the open kitchen and started the coffee, spying a used mug in the sink. _Apparently he's already gone through one pot_.

Once the burbling sounds of the brewing process started, he strode out of the kitchen, grabbing the suitcase as he went by, and re-entered L's room. L hadn't moved. He stared at the computer screen, scrolling through page after page of text, leaning forward as if his face was magnetized to the images before him. His white shirt, now untucked, stood out in the darkness, the suit jacket nowhere to be seen. Aleister dropped the case with a thump.

"Your clothes, your toothbrush, your very likely never-used comb – they're all in this case, along with your notes, maps, and files. And snacks." Aleister glared at the back of L's head, noting that the blond wig he'd worn earlier had been tossed aside to sit nearby, a golden, legless pet. "Coffee's on its way. Now tell me what happened."

L continued to scroll, presumably reading, presumably trying to ignore him. Aleister concluded that even his bluntness had been too subtle and threw a hotel notepad at L's head. L's only reaction to it bouncing off his skull was to rub his hand over it briefly.

"If you do not explain, I will make you miserable." Aleister spoke through clenched teeth.

"I am already miserable."

"Oh yes, poor you, experiencing a little setback after a night of passion, I –"

"A man is _dead_ because of me." L's voice was terse, and he did not turn. "That is at least three people since I got here, not counting others the Butcher has murdered. Do _not_ trivialize someone's death as 'a little setback.'"

Shaken by L's outburst, Aleister still refused to back down. "You're right. That was crass of me, and I apologize. If you want me to be useful, however, you must bring me up to speed. Otherwise, I will continue to interrupt you – or better yet, I will start doing things on my own."

L exhaled sharply, remaining silent for a few moments as he continued to scroll. Finally, he paused. "Do you want B found?"

Aleister noted the word choice: "found," not "rescued." He clenched his fists. "Yes."

"Then please let me work."

"Tell me the nature of your falling out with Watari, and I will."

"He wanted to give up. I do not." L speared him with a glance over his shoulder, the bags under his eyes seeming more pronounced in the glare from the computer in the otherwise darkened room. "Also, he disagrees with my assessment that Coil is in league with the Butcher."

Aleister's eyes went wide. "Bloody . . . Well, that _might_ explain a few things, but . . . if that's true, then the only reason for all this . . ."

". . . is for Coil to bolster his flagging reputation as the world's best detective. He's allowed several people to die and has likely killed at least one himself, specifically Officer Maulty." L's jaw muscle twitched. "In addition to helping the Butcher so that he can appear to catch him later, Coil seeks to neutralize me, considering that he just tried to frame me for the murder of a police officer."

Aleister felt his mouth fall open, and he left it that way for a moment, taking in L's bleak expression, his more hunched than usual form. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed. "And Watari doesn't believe you."

"Correct." L turned back to face the screen.

He stared at L's back, his other concerns temporarily forgotten. Pages of text resumed their rapid progress, flitting past L's gaze. Aleister swallowed. "Right then. Give a shout when you find something in Coil's case files. I'll scan them again as well. I'll bring the coffee when it's done."

"Thank you, Aleister."

Walking to the adjoining door, Aleister paused. "Given your pronoun use regarding the Butcher . . . do you genuinely suspect Janine and Danielle? Or was that carefully worded malarkey to throw him off?"

"They are possible suspects, yes, given the timing of . . . things."

Aleister tossed his hair, looking away. "Please. So you lost your virginity. Good for you." He managed to keep the tremor out of his voice. "But irrespective of timing, I don't for a second believe that either Danielle or Janine is the Butcher or even an accomplice, and what's more, neither do you."

"Oh really." L's tone was dry.

"Yes really. Their personalities are both completely wrong – they don't fit the profile."

"They could be acting. Sociopathic personality types tend to be –"

"They aren't." Aleister interrupted. "If either of them had ASPD, you'd have picked up on that by now – you're bloody good at pinpointing those. And I doubt you've suddenly lost your ability to detect when someone is lying."

"I am human. I have missed things."

"Not this many things. While we were cleaning up at your dorm, by the way, we bugged the sixth floor kitchen and placed a camera there too, so you'll likely see them and several other residents if you doubt your earlier impressions. My recommendation, not that you want one, is to go back over your personal observations of everyone, not just those two, and set aside all preconceptions. Do your little . . . _zen_ thing, see if that works."

"Transcendental meditation. And it does not work."

Aleister rolled his eyes. "Fine then. Mull things over in the shower – something you desperately need, just so you know." He ignored L's grunt of indignation. "Back in a bit with coffee."

The scent of the brew was stronger as Aleister approached the kitchen, handily overpowering the scent of L's sweat. Aleister felt he had enough distractions to contend with without pheromones figuring into the mix. He poured coffee into a large mug and lifted it, a full bag of sugarcubes in his other hand, before walking back into the next room. Setting both on the floor next to L's bunched form, Aleister hesitated.

"He wanted me to tell you he's disposing of certain items and then acquiring a few things. Possibly a lorry full of sugar."

"Do you believe me?" L's tone was soft, matter-of-fact.

"That Coil tried to frame you? Yes, I do, actually."

L turned to look him in the eye. "Do you believe that I could be a murderer?"

Aleister blinked. "Of course not."

Nodding, L turned back to the screen. "Thank you."

Aleister left the room and almost didn't hear L's muted words behind him: "It is good to know that my ability to detect a lie has not left me."

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: When I started this fic, it was a scenario like this that I had in mind. Not just that random people around L might think he was a murderer, but that someone he cared about might think so. Because let's face it, L doesn't really give a crap about what most people think. But Watari? That's another matter. For someone's view of him to result in the 'worst feeling ever,' that someone would have to matter. Part of my goal here is to show some of the ways in which L became the L we know from canon.

I mentioned my other fic, The Pull, in the Summary above because it's what Watari is referring to in his discussion with L in the limo. I've spoiled it a bit, but if you want to know more about that situation, you can read the story.

Thanks for reading!


	19. Diving Deep

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

_Drowning is not so pitiful_

_As the attempt to rise_

_Three times, 'tis said, a sinking man_

_Comes up to face the skies,_

_And then declines forever_

_To the abhorred abode,_

_Where hope and he part company –_

– excerpt from "Drowning is not so pitiful", Emily Dickinson

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 19: Diving Deep

Even during trying times, the importance of taking solace in simple pleasures was clear to him. A breakfast and lunch of fresh-baked cake and coffee, for example, or a long uninterrupted shower in his own bathroom with a locked door to keep out intruders. L pressed the soft white towel to his chest, blotting the last droplets from his body. His hair stood up at odder angles than usual, having just been rubbed vigorously by a towel he'd since dropped to the floor. Poking the damp thing with a toe, he clutched at the other towel, bringing it to his face. It smelled clean. He smelled clean. _But I'm not_, he thought.

L rubbed his face viciously, preventing hot trails from forming, and tossed the second towel aside, staring down at the white lumps as though they were shed skin. _Before I persuaded him_, he thought, _Watari seemed willing to continue working with me, though not on this case, despite the fact that he believes I murdered Maulty_. _Whatever he may think of me, this does not speak highly of his own scruples, harboring one murderer to catch another_. L pushed a thumb to his mouth, pinning flesh between teeth. _Even Aleister, who has an unrealistically positive view of me, believes that I could be a murderer_. _To be fair, he is not wrong_.

Turning to face the mirror, L propped his fingers on the vanity and stared into his own eyes, the pupils constricted, gunmetal grey staring back with both barrels. _Am I wrong to do this?_ L wondered. _Am I wrong to think that I can pay back any debt by solving crimes?_ _Am I even worthy of taking on such a role?_

The ruddy bloom across his face stood out in his reflection, even as condensation threatened to mist the mirror over once more. He stared, letting his eyes unfocus, his features blurring into the ghostly skull and black cloud before snapping back into sharp relief. Cool marble on warm skin soothed him, and his breathing began to slow. _No, I am not worthy_, L thought, _but I will do this just the same_. _Whether I owe any debts or not, I __**want**__ to do this_. _I am L, and a detective by choice, not by design or obligation_.

He saw that his pupils had dilated again, and he took a deep breath. The anger and guilt that had clamped down on his thoughts let go, releasing him. All of the case files he'd just re-read – every case Coil had ever worked on, over a thousand of them – surged through his brain in a rapid slideshow. Only nineteen of the cases had been in Canada, eight of which had occurred in the Toronto area, not counting the current case. One of these eight snapped to the forefront of L's mind.

In the late seventies, a former cryptographer whose brother was a renowned Egyptologist had been brought to justice by Coil for committing a string of murders in and around Mississauga – or he would have been, had he not hung himself in his apartment before police arrived, just after the final murder. Coded notes had been left at each of the seven murders, all young women, and much had been made of Coil's ability to decipher what had stumped the police. The code had used hieroglyphics in a substitution cipher, with the resulting decoded messages often taking on an almost Dr. Seuss-ian rhyme scheme. "Sebastien Willette," L murmured.

The case against Willette had been largely circumstantial, with the exception of the note left at the seventh murder, which had had the man's fingerprints on it. Willette's fingerprints had also been on his suicide note, though there had been some question at the time about whether the handwriting matched the coded notes.

_Did Coil fake any of the evidence at the scene of the murder?_ L wondered. _Or did he only fake the man's suicide note?_ Even if Willette had been the murderer, if the evidence convicting him was false . . . _then Coil did not truly solve the case_, L thought. _The scene of the seventh murder was just downstairs from Willette's apartment – if Coil got there before the police and confronted him, he could have garroted Willette, written the suicide note, placed Willette's fingerprints on it and the coded note, strung the man up, and gotten downstairs in time to return the coded note to its original location on the woman's forehead_.

L grimaced, shaking his head, droplets flying from his hair, remembering something he'd said to Maulty: "You are placing what you wish to believe above the evidence of this case." _Far too much is unclear in the file of the Mississauga case_, L thought, _but I do not have enough solid proof to reopen it, considering that Sebastien Willette's body was cremated and thus cannot be exhumed for re-examination_. _I must focus on extrapolating what could connect this information to the current case_.

When Roger had compiled Coil's case files and sent them along the first time, he'd pulled them from ICPO records, presuming that they would have the most updated information. The ICPO's files did list two newer cases that had not been in the Wammy House records for Coil, but the Mississauga Murders case implicating Willette had been missing, falling in the one-year gap that L had detected. The altered case file L had noticed from the following year had not included the victim's name, Desiree Montague, nor had it shown photos of the strangulation victim and the landlady's statement, but nothing else was missing. _As I recall, there was a rumor that Deneuve had taken an interest in that Swiss case_, L thought. _If Montague was Deneuve's agent, that could explain why some details were obscured_. _This crime, however, seems to bear no connection whatsoever to the Missing Parts case_. The fact that the Mississauga Murders case had been completely wiped from the ICPO's database raised L's suspicions considerably.

Willette, a widower, had had a young son named Claude, but there was no mention in the file of where the child had been at the time of the murders. _If his father was framed, the son would have been motivated to go after Coil, unless_ . . . L's eyes widened. _Could the son have been involved in the murders from the seventies?_ _Did Coil show him "mercy" and let him go, possibly with the intention of calling in a favor later?_ Just before his shower, L had looked for any information on a Claude Willette in the local and international criminal databases but had come up empty. _Which, of course, only means that he's never been arrested_, L thought, _unless those records were wiped too_. _He'd be in his mid-thirties now_. L decided that he would need to review the list of employees at the University, as well as the list of hospital employees. He remembered most of the names, but he wanted to be certain. _Then again, Willette may be operating under an alias, if he is here_.

No photos of the boy were in the file, but it had been noted that he had early-onset alopecia universalis. A burst of images flashed in L's head and he blinked, still staring at his pale reflection but not seeing it, seeing instead a partial profile in the darkness and then a bald man in a grey jumpsuit walking past in daylight.

_I should have noticed_, L thought, his hands turning to fists on the cool marble; _I should have noticed the lack of eyebrows_. _He nearly collided with Janine . . . and he smirked as he left, though the scar at the corner of his mouth may only have made it appear that way_. _Did he pass her a message?_ He realized that there could be many reasons for lacking eyebrows, and he knew that the man he saw was not a perfect match to the image he'd captured when he'd arrived on campus in August, but it was not uncommon for the two sides of one person's face to be somewhat dissimilar even without a distinctive scar. _True symmetry is rare_, L thought. _Given his age and appearance, this man could easily be Claude Willette_.

Despite Coil's presence at the scene of Maulty's death, L knew that the detective preferred to delegate the dirty work to others. _I __**know**__ that Coil murdered him, _L thought. _Whatever his preferences, he set them aside to do this_. _It is possible that he had to improvise – he may not have begun his sham investigation of this case with the intention of framing me for murder, but Maulty may have gotten too close to the truth_. _Coil would have had to prevent him from exposing his plan_. _Even if Maulty did not realize what Coil was actually doing, if he had found the Butcher and solved the case before Coil did, it would have rendered all of Coil's efforts moot anyway_. _Desperation in the wake of murdering Maulty would have then induced Coil to find the most advantageous solution, one I stupidly handed him by walking right into his crime scene_. L grimaced. _Willette may not have been involved with Coil's "solution" for Maulty, but he must know about it by now_. _Whether Coil and Willette are working together or are at odds, they __**are**__ connected_.

"I am _not_ wrong." L's voice was a low growl, blending with the whir of the fan. "I am not wrong, and I _will_ stop them."

Pushing back off the vanity, L grabbed the clean clothes he'd brought in with him, pulling on the blue and white striped boxers, the blue jeans, the grey shirt. No red. He needed precisely two things to bring this case to a stuttering halt: the location of the Butcher's base of operations, and the identity of his accomplice. _It is even possible that Willette has kept the identity of his accomplice from Coil_, L thought. _Regardless, I will find the truth_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Earpiece in, he kept returning to the same view – the dorm kitchen hovered there onscreen, its windowless space still managing to appear bright and cheery in green and yellow with a near-constant stream of residents coming and going. He continued monitoring the audio even while switching to the other camera feeds. The sight of Officers Harnett and Drummond rooting around in his dorm room did not concern him. There was no longer anything they could find that could incriminate him after Watari and Aleister's thorough cleaning. Aleister had already confirmed by looking at the archived images that the two body parts that were dropped further away from Trinity Hall had been rigged to do so from trees, and police reports indicating that rubber tubing and other debris had been found nearby bore this out. The body part that had been discovered by students attending the dance had landed on the grass with no one in camera view, but there had been an arc to its trajectory on camera and no debris found, indicating that it had either been rigged from much further away, or it had been thrown. By a person.

L was certain that the abandoned train tunnels led to the Butcher somehow, but he knew that he needed to identify the accomplice conclusively or the murders might continue after the Butcher was caught. _They must be captured together, as a set_, he thought. _Then and only then can Coil be exposed as a fraud and a murderer himself_. _The Butcher likely displays symptoms of anti-social personality disorder, but the accomplice may not_.

The information he'd drummed up on the Willette boy had been meager at best with only one school photo of him at the age of eight. School records indicated that he'd been smart but unfocused, and had been prone to occasional outbursts, a few of which had been moderately violent. Teachers' notes had painted Claude as a shy boy with an active imagination. His grades had fallen off a bit after his father died, but once he got to high school, he was pulling a reasonable 3.4 GPA. College, however, had remained mostly out of reach for the younger Willette. Unable to obtain a scholarship, he'd attended community college for a year before dropping out to work full-time. His employment records were spotty, riddled with construction and maintenance jobs all over the Ontario region. Four years ago, a man named Claude Miller had started working at Toronto University, initially as a janitor, though he was now listed as a supervisor under "Building Maintenance." _This may not be the same man_, L thought, _given what seems like a half-hearted attempt to change his name, but interestingly, he gained employment here two months after the case I solved in Rome that caused several international journalists to describe me as 'the next Eraldo Coil.'_ _Could Coil have been planning all this so far in advance, or is this a coincidence?_

L sighed, bringing his thoughts back to the Mississauga Murders case. _Perhaps, rather than participating, the younger Willette merely observed the murders, either with his father's permission or without his knowledge_, L thought. _His school behavior seems somewhat reminiscent of Beyond's, though Willette is clearly less intelligent and, if anything, less in control – a disquieting thought_. _If he witnessed his father's actions in horror, then he may have been grateful to Coil for stopping them and 'saving' him, but if he revered his father . . . it is possible that he is allowing Coil to think he is grateful when he is, in fact, plotting revenge_. _It is also possible that he reviles both of them and seeks to make his own mark_. Frowning, L pulled at his lip. _Meanwhile, Coil uses Willette for his own purposes, and at least twenty-two people are now dead for nothing more than their combined vanity_. He felt his mouth twisting and knew there was not enough sugar in the world to take away the bitter taste of such depravity.

The tease of just-recognizable feminine voices in his ear caught his attention. Still flipping through campus feeds, L settled in to listen to the inevitable inanity of small talk as he plopped sugarcubes into his mouth.

"Well, other than that, was the dance fun?" The slight Vancouver accent to the warm tone marked the voice as Kim's.

"It – yeah, it was, but . . ." The higher pitch and self-interrupting manner were unmistakably Janine's. "I dunno. I mean, I like Geoff a lot, and he was really sweet all through dinner and the first part of the dance, but then he sorta . . . ditched me, for, well, almost an hour."

"Whoa, what?" Kim sounded surprised. "What happened?"

"At the dance, he kept drinking out of this flask he brought – I don't know why, they had beer and wine right there. I don't really know what was in it, but he went to the bathroom for a long time, and when he got back, he _said_ he'd gotten sick . . ."

"Aw, c'mon, he wouldn't fake getting sick to ditch you! Geoff was really psyched to go with you, I could totally tell." Kim's face was in view at last as L clicked back over to the camera feed from the sixth floor dorm kitchen. The two girls were sitting at the table.

"Maybe, but . . . he didn't _smell_ like he'd been sick, and he wasn't pale." Janine frowned and took a sip of soda. "Plus, the stuff in his flask didn't smell like booze – it smelled like coffee."

"Coulda been Kahlua."

"That's what Danielle said." Janine's eyes were downcast. "But there's no way he would have gotten drunk off of that."

"Oh, I dunno. Are you sure he's not a lightweight?" Kim winked. "Cheap dates are better anyway."

"It's possible, I guess. But his pupils weren't even dilated, and, I dunno, the timing was just _weird_."

"What do you mean?"

Shrugging, Janine pushed her soda can away from her with an index finger. "Well, he left, and then about twenty minutes later that . . . _part_ was found, right outside the ballroom."

"Whoa, whoa – you're not trying to say _Geoff_ did that, are you?" Kim's eyes were wide, as were L's.

Janine looked up, her face tired. "No, it's not that. I mean, you never _really_ know what's inside someone, no matter how long you know them, but . . . I don't think Geoff's a killer. There's no way I'd date someone I thought that about. It's just really weird that he was gone when they found it. I was sitting there with Allison and her boyfriend when someone came in from outside and told us what happened. I'm so glad I didn't find it . . ."

"Yeah, seriously. A severed wiener is some kinda party favor . . ." Kim grimaced. "And with the other two parts they found, I can sorta see why some people think it's a prank. I mean, rib-bones and butt-cheeks? Talk about creepy and juvenile. And are the police really snooping around in Ezekiel's room? It makes no sense, there's no way _he's_ the murderer, I don't care what anybody says."

"Yeah, I . . . yeah. I hope he's OK . . ."

L was only partially listening to them now, watching their faces as a series of memories fluttered through his mind, pieces of remembered conversation coming into sharper focus. He gripped a sugarcube too tightly and it crumbled between his thumb and forefinger, sweet snow showering onto one knee of his jeans. _Janine does not appear to be lying_, he thought, _which means . . . my assessment of her was wrong_. _The likelihood of her involvement has dropped below 1%, and Danielle's has dropped to 3%_. _Whether Danielle intended to distract me or not, I can only conclude one thing: Geoff is the accomplice_. _86%_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

"So you sent him away to attempt this subterfuge?"

"No. I sent him away to get you supper. I am merely taking the opportunity to depart before he can return and express any disapproval."

"He'll have my head."

"I imagine he'd prefer you kept it, actually." L's tone was droll. "How do I look?"

"Not like you."

"Good." L adjusted the baseball cap on his head, pinning down his normally wild hair.

"You do realize some wag may approach you and attempt to discuss the Toronto Blue Jays' dismal season, don't you?" Aleister raised an eyebrow, surveying L head to toe. _Between the baseball cap, the fake nose, and the darker foundation, he looks surprisingly different_, he thought. _Now if only he'd act differently_.

"I do not intend to engage anyone in conversation on my way."

"You're certain Miller and Willette are one and the same?"

"Yes." L plucked another item from the tabletop and dropped it in his pocket. "Where is he now?"

Aleister stepped back over to his computer, seating himself and scrolling through some camera feeds. "There he is. Still walking, starting to get out of range, but he's still on campus, heading in the opposite direction of the hospital. It's hard to say for sure, but given his direction, I'd guess he's going straight for –"

"The power plant," L said along with Aleister, now peeking over his shoulder at the receding figure of Geoff onscreen. "It is interesting that he is approaching it aboveground since the tunnel should lead to it. I suppose I will find out when I get there."

"You don't think it's another trap?" Aleister tried to ignore L's breath at his neck.

"Unlikely, but that possibility is why I am taking precautions. Are you certain that this nose looks natural?"

Aleister spun in his chair to face L. "I am. Just keep from rubbing it – if you break the glue seal, it'll look decidedly unnatural, plus you'll muck up my makeup job."

"Understood."

"Are you positive that you –"

"I must go there alone." L interrupted. "It is not to keep you safe, however. I need you here, watching, so that you can alert me of danger if necessary. And I need you to prevent Watari from taking any rash action against me. Will you do those things for me?"

Aleister found himself nodding, irked that he was being manipulated yet still moved by the notion that L needed him. "I will."

"Thank you." L turned to go. "I have my cellphone."

"And if I can't connect?"

"Keep trying for five minutes. If I do not answer within that timeframe, go to plan B."

Chafing at the term, Aleister shook off the feeling and stood. "I know you don't believe Beyond is alive, but I must insist you find him."

"Locating his remains is important, but my priority –"

"I know your priority!" Aleister drew his voice back from the precipice of a shout. "_Find_ him. I will hold you personally responsible if you do not."

L turned to look at him from the door, eyes hooded. "I _am_ personally responsible. As is he. As are you. As are the Butcher and Coil."

"I know all that. Just promise me."

After a moment, L sighed. "I promise I will find Beyond."

Aleister nodded. "Good. And I promise I won't tell him you used his chosen nom de guerre." A corner of his mouth tried to pull into a smile.

L raised an eyebrow. "I would have denied it anyway."

"Of course." Aleister watched L turn and straighten his spine in a reasonable facsimile of a normal person's posture. "I stand by my earlier advice."

"Which advice was that?"

"Don't die." Aleister kept his tone light, knowing it wouldn't fool him.

"I cannot afford to die – I have too much to do."

"Do you intend to walk, by the way?"

"I do not." L gave him a half-smile over his shoulder. "B is not the only one who is skilled at stealing vehicles." Swiftly opening the door, L was through it before Aleister could respond.

Shaking his head, Aleister walked back to his computer. "Blimey, we're all a bunch of fucking crooks, aren't we," he muttered.

As he sat down, he saw that the now-distant figure of Geoff was closer to the old power plant. Aleister knew from reading all of the campus planning papers and recent newsletters from the university that the power plant was scheduled to be phased out over the next couple of years. Certain university buildings had already converted and were drawing from the main Toronto power grid, but the switch was proceeding gradually. Due to budget cuts, the oversight of the small on-campus plant had been significantly reduced. _Wouldn't be shocked if this murderer's been holed up under the power plant with no one noticing_, Aleister thought. _It operates with a skeleton crew at this point – in fact, it mightn't need more than one man to keep it going_.

Not wanting to dwell on why Watari might have thought the worst of L, he focused on the screen, waiting. _We're all capable of murder, everyone is, it's basic human nature_, he thought, _but being capable of it isn't the same thing as doing it_. Aleister wondered if he would have killed a person if it meant saving someone else, someone like Beyond or L. Swallowing, still anticipating the eventual appearance of L's disguised form onscreen, he stopped his train of thought, unsure of which conclusion would be uglier.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: L coming to terms with the shift in roles was crucial to this chapter. There are still things he's not facing up to, but he's adjusting, learning, and becoming who he will one day be. Few personal transitions are pretty.

As I understand it, the legal drinking age for Ontario, Canada (in the 90's at least) is 18, hence booze being available at the dance. Hopefully this excursion will go better for L. At least he's trying to disguise his appearance, since the police are looking for his alter ego.

FYI to any long-time readers, recent events induced me to revise chapter 16 of this fic. I apologize if this annoys anyone.

Thanks for reading!


	20. Spun Clear

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

_The things that you tell yourself,_

_They'll kill you in time,_

_Your cold white brother alive in your blood_

_Spinning in the night sky._

_While the moon does its division, you're buried below,_

_And you're coming up roses everywhere you go,_

_Red roses_.

– excerpt from "Coming Up Roses", Elliott Smith

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 20: Spun Clear

The door was rusty and scratched, but the hinges were well-oiled and the lock easy enough to pick. He entered soundlessly and reclosed the door, darkness engulfing him. Remembering the layout of the building from the old blueprints, L moved forward, careful not to shuffle. He'd circled this building once before, on an evening while Aleister had been staying with him, but nothing had raised his suspicions then. Not knowing about the abandoned tunnel at the time, L had reasoned that it was too far from most of the drops for the Butcher to have escaped notice moving from one end of campus to the other. But Willette would have been able to use those tunnels, and had had someone to help him. It still rankled that Geoff was the Butcher's accomplice – not just because he had missed it, but because he had thought better of him. _People are not always what they seem, even to my eyes_, L conceded to himself. _Geoff was simply a better actor than I realized_. A thin film of light slipped under a door at the far end of the room. He approached it and stood silent, listening.

Muted voices floated his way, but from a different direction than the light. L moved slowly toward the door he knew was there in the other back corner of the room. Groping for the knob with a gloved hand, he turned it, still listening intently. A distant clang of metal on metal rang through the space before him, a space L knew included a stairway down, right in front of him, though he could not see it in the dark. The air was cool and musty. Stepping forward, sneakered foot pointing down, L began his descent.

The room at the bottom of the stairs was just as dark as the one he'd left. The voices were still muffled, and he moved toward them. L opened a door onto a corridor, dimly in view from a light source out of sight past a right angle turn. As he walked swiftly down the hallway, one voice rose to a shout, the words unintelligible, followed by a faint thud, and he hurried to the corner and peered around. Another door, another light spilling from beneath it. L padded up to it and dropped to a crouch, squinting through the crack. The floor on the other side was clear.

No voices came, but there was a clear sound of something metal dropping onto concrete. _I cannot hesitate now_, L thought; _the proof I seek is within_. Reaching up for the doorknob, L twisted it and moved through silently, still crouched low, knees jutting.

Dusty cardboard file boxes were stacked floor to ceiling along one wall, and several wooden crates framed the other side of the door, blocking the view of most of the room. One of the crates was marked "BeeDee Medical Supplies." Silently pulling the door shut, L crept forward, listening as a shuffling noise seemed to move away from him. _It is apparent that some altercation has taken place, _he thought. _If Geoff has become the victim of the Butcher, or Coil, I must take steps to ensure that his body is not used to contribute to the body part drops_. _Whatever he may have done, no one deserves to be desecrated in such a manner. If he is alive, however, he will be of more value_.

L peered past the splintered wooden barrier and saw that the room was partitioned – though additional space was visible beyond it, metal shelving cut off his view of the rest of the room approximately four meters from where he crouched behind crates. Standing slowly, he heard rushing water along with some distant snuffling noises and what sounded like rapid breathing. _Is someone . . . crying?_ L wondered. He stepped around the crates and beheld a steel operating table under flickering fluorescents. It gleamed. It looked too clean. Straps dangled, unused yet worn, from the sides of it. A counter with rows of shining surgical tools lay just behind it, at the head of the table, next to a doorless and apparently repurposed bathroom. The linoleum floor looked scuffed and bleached with only the faintest hint of a pattern. L scanned the implements, and the bone saw glinted at him. Tearing his eyes away, he moved toward the choked and breathy sounds.

_I will have to examine the surgical area another time_, L thought, reaching the edge of the shelving unit. _Perhaps after I have neutralized any threats_. Leaning forward, he looked into the space past the shelves. It seemed lived-in. A sturdy, wooden workbench was on the far wall past a stained brown leather couch, the back of which was facing him. Next to the workbench were two large chest freezers. The nicked and worn top of the workbench was littered with papers, pens, and assorted tools. L noticed a small wooden artist's manikin, its limbs at odd angles where it lay on a bed of small, pale squares of wood next to a dog-eared copy of Moby Dick. A shelf over the workbench held several books of poetry as well as a beaten volume on hieroglyphics, a copy of Grey's Anatomy, and a few tomes of Russian literature in their original language. A rosary dangled from a crudely carved crucifix over the shelf, the eyes of the wooden Jesus hollow and red, its toothless mouth gaping.

Casting his gaze to the floor, L saw one rubber-soled boot poking out from behind the dingy couch. Head cocked, he noticed that the sounds were coming from a separate room, the frame of its door coming into view as he stepped forward, careful to make no noise. He dropped to a crouch, gloved knuckles to the floor next to the arm of the couch, and leaned forward, peeking past the furniture.

The body was not Geoff's. The hairless man in the boots lay still, eyes closed, head turned to one side, though L could see that his chest still rose and fell. A scar cinched the skin at the corner of his mouth. L stood, slowly. An ugly lump, seeping blood, protruded from the back of the man's shiny head. Blood also smeared his gloves and the apron over his jumpsuit, some amount of which had pooled next to him as well. L could not tell how much of the blood was his, however, so he chose to proceed with caution. _His immobility may be a pretense_, he thought; _I cannot take the chance_. Spying a coil of rope under the workbench, L darted over to it, getting right to work.

Several minutes and several knots later, Claude Willette lay fully bound on the floor, still apparently unconscious. L couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. A bloodied pipe lay nearby, making it fairly obvious what had happened. _They argued, of course_, he thought, _and Geoff apparently got the better of him, but to what end?_ _Why now?_ _Could Willette have been the pawn and Geoff the mastermind?_ Raising himself to his full height, L snatched a hammer from the workbench and moved toward the soft sounds still spilling from the open door to the next room, readying himself for confrontation.

The smell of blood was much stronger as he crossed the threshold. A naked bulb cast a yellowed pall over the tiny room, and a large industrial sink with a broken and gushing faucet seemed to be shushing him. L saw the shadow of a knife under the sink. Larger than the repurposed bathroom on the other side of the wall, the layout of the space gave the impression that this had been a janitor's closet once, an impression offset by the heavy chains linked to the wall and the two figures before him.

Geoff hadn't turned. He knelt in gore, face pressed to the shoulder of a young brunette who was clearly dead, his breaths coming in short gasps. She was propped in a metal folding chair, chains binding her to it and to the wall. The blood pool around them seemed fresh, rivulets running to the floor drain, and the entrails that dangled out of her slashed midsection were not discolored or distended, drooping down around her like dead powerlines gone thick and lumpy. Still clothed, only her abdomen had been exposed, the deep cuts in her flesh forming an X. From the look of the blood spatter on the walls and sink and the weeping sores at her wrists and ankles, it appeared that she'd been chained for some time and had been cut open while alive. Taking note of the woman's facial features, slack as they were with her head slumped to one side, the last puzzle piece snapped into place for L and he lowered his weapon, though he did not drop it.

"When did Claude Willette abduct your sister?"

Geoff's body jerked, and he swung his head to look at L. For a long moment, he stared, his face damp and uncharacteristically contorted with emotion. "How did you . . ." His breath hitched. "Zeke, is that you?"

L bit back disappointment. "I believe you know that is not my name. What gave me away?"

Gaze drifting, Geoff did not let go of the body. "Your voice. It's . . . not hard to pick out."

"I see." L stood rigid, mindful of his new identity, and resolved to better disguise his voice in the future.

"So his last name was Willette – I only knew him as Claude. I met him a couple years ago, but I never knew he . . . I never thought he'd . . ." Geoff swallowed, eyes glazing. "He thought you were a spy or something. He never said what for." Frowning, he glanced up. "Are you . . . Coil?"

"Definitely not." L's mouth twisted in unfeigned disgust. "I am an operative working undercover for the ICPO. You may call me Roussel. Now, please answer my question."

"Your – wait . . ." Geoff's brow furrowed as if he couldn't remember, and L decided that he was probably in shock.

"When did he –"

"Before school started. Katie . . ." Geoff's breath hitched as he stared at the floor. "She was supposed to start her sophomore year over at the Mississauga campus, but she told our parents she was taking a year off to go to Spain. They weren't too happy about that, and she, like, stormed off with her suitcase. Mom . . . called and asked me to talk her out of it, but when I tried, she wasn't answering her cell. Then I got a call. It was from her phone, but it was . . . Claude. Said I had to cooperate. Said if I helped him, she'd be OK, that he'd let her go." The uneven cascade of words stopped. Geoff lifted a trembling hand to her face but pulled it back at the last moment, eyes empty yet haunted as if he himself were the ghost within them.

"Did he know she was your sister when he selected her?"

"I don't know. I . . . he must have, but I don't remember telling him about her." Leaning the side of his head on his sister's arm, his head tilted toward the door behind L.

"Why did you not attempt to contact the police?"

"He said I was keeping them safe. He said if the police ever got close, he'd kill her."

"You told no one of your sister's capture?"

Geoff shook his head, a slow roll against her body. "I told my parents that I was too late and she'd already left the country. I kept thinking I could get her out. It was just timing . . . I just had to . . ."

"Did you capture any victims for him?"

Geoff's eyes snapped to L's. "No. No way."

"Did you kill for him?"

"_No_. I wouldn't . . . I couldn't do that. Katie would never forgive me . . ." His gaze drifted to L's feet.

"Did you assist him in the . . . extraction of body parts?"

"No. He told me that the victims were all dead already – that's what the freezers were for in the other room. He said killing here would draw too much attention to him. He said . . . he said it was a sacred act."

"But you assisted him by dropping body parts for him, correct?"

Geoff's face scrunched up. "Sometimes. I brought him some supplies – stuff from the med lab, and some stuff from the hospital. He had me drive a truck once and act as a lookout, and . . . he made me rig a couple of things in trees to drop later."

"Did you carry the body part with you to the dance before dropping it?"

Another slow rolling headshake. "He left it hidden, in a baggie in the toilet tank in an employee bathroom. He told me I had to find a way to drop it near the front of the building by midnight. I didn't know what it would be until I saw it. I . . . propped the back door open, and walked around toward the front, staying out of the light. I just chucked it as soon as no one was looking and went back inside. I felt sick, but I couldn't throw up, not until later." Tears welled in his bloodshot eyes. "They were already dead. I couldn't help them. I just wanted to save my little sister . . ."

"So you never saw him murder anyone." L amended his plan as he watched the man he'd thought he'd known lean against the dead chained woman. He wondered how damaged Geoff was now as a result of his circumstances, and his choices.

"Not until . . ." Geoff trialed off, voice faint. "I caught him here. The knife was still in his hand, and he was . . . pulling out . . . her intestines . . ." His head tilted back and he stared at the ceiling, his voice taking on a higher pitch. "He just looked at me like nothing was wrong. Like we were buds or something and he was just working on a project. He was like 'This was always on the menu, my pet.' I barely remember walking out of the room – I don't even know where I got the pipe from – but he just strolled out after me." Geoff's mouth was a thin line, eyes red in a pallid face. "I bashed his fucking head in with the pipe. He went down." Dully, Geoff looked over at L. "He's dead, isn't he."

"He was still breathing when I restrained him."

Geoff's eyes flew wide. "Dude! He'll get away!" Off-kilter, he jumped to his feet, steadying himself with one hand against the back wall. "You've got to stop him! He'll –"

"Stay where you are." L's voice was a low growl, hammer gripped and raised in his right hand. Two measured steps back, and he was spinning in the doorway, quick steps taking him to the murderer's side. L crouched over him, observing his breathing pattern as Geoff appeared in the doorway to look on. "He is still unconscious." L stood. "Were you his only accomplice?"

"I . . . Probably. I mean, he made it sound like I was all he had, and I never saw anyone else, not that I was here much. When he talked . . . well, he's a fucking nutjob, but a smart one, and he sorta talked like everything was a metaphor. He said a bunch of stuff about the puppy and the hound – he made it sound like they were _people_ or something. Thing is, I thought he had the puppy dude holed up somewhere, but then he was like 'I set the puppy free,' so either the guy left, or . . ."

"Or he is dead." L glowered, glancing from Geoff to Willette and back. "If you were rarely here, how did he communicate with you?"

"I kept Katie's phone, and he left messages on it for me to call him for instructions. He told me to keep it turned off most of the time and only check it for messages once a day after classes." Geoff was staring down at Willette's form, their clothes both painted the same angry red.

"You said earlier that you did not kill anyone or assist him in doing so." L kept his eyes on Geoff's face. "Were you including Gellie's cat in those statements?"

Appearing confused, Geoff swung his gaze to meet L's. "What?"

"Please answer the question."

"Why would anyone kill her cat?"

"I am more interested in hearing your response than in offering conjecture." Keeping his focus on the grad student, L nonetheless made sure he could see Willette in his periphery.

"I didn't kill Lucy." Geoff's face was blank and pale, innocent of blood despite the mess covering the rest of him. "He and I both know Gellie – she used to go to school here part-time. I remember him asking about her missing cat . . ." His eyes went unfocused, moving side to side as if reading invisible text in the air between them. "Wait. If he . . ." He raised his gaze to meet L's once more. "Is Gellie OK?"

L's mouth pressed into a thin line. "This information was not released to the public, but Angelica Fragaria's DNA matched the foot that was dropped one month ago."

Geoff's back hit the doorjamb and he slid to the floor, forming an ungainly gate, knees up, hands limp at his sides. "I should have killed him." His voice was faint. "I should have just killed him as soon as I knew he took Katie."

"That would only have made you a murderer as well."

"If it stopped him . . . it would have been worth it."

L thought of all the discussions he'd had with Aleister, and of the fact that Coil would have had to find another patsy. "I am not so certain."

"All those people . . . and now Gellie and my sister too . . ."

"These things cannot be changed. What happens next is negotiable."

"I don't care what happens to me." Geoff stared at the floor.

"Then I suggest you focus on caring about what happens to others."

"My sister's _dead_. I can't –"

"Your _parents_ are alive." L's tone was stern. "As are your friends. As is Janine." L wanted to shake him, as if that might dislodge the man's self-pity, but he kept himself in check. _I may need him for the next phase of things_, he thought.

"Yeah, but . . ." Geoff glanced at the bound man, "_he's_ not going anywhere. He's not a threat now. You caught him, dude. You caught us both."

L swallowed. _He seems genuinely distraught_, he thought; _whether he is trustworthy or not, he is clearly not the mastermind here, and the advantages to keeping him in place outweigh those of removing him_. _He will seek justice for his sister_. _I can use this_. L made the leap. "There is a more insidious threat than a serial killer at work here."

Geoff's head tilted, his eyes slowly drifting back to meet L's. "What do you mean?"

"The man who purported to pursue Willette was in fact working with him." L's eyes flashed.

"Wait, like the police? Or . . ." Geoff's eyes widened. "Fuck – you mean _Coil?_"

"Correct, though that is likely not his real name."

"Oh yeah. Because he uses aliases, like L . . ."

"L is a separate entity." L let resentment color his voice. "If L had bothered to take on this case, it might have been solved more quickly."

"But why would Coil work with a killer he's trying to catch?"

"That is as yet unclear," L said, keeping the details to himself. "He stands to benefit from this, either by solving a problem he himself created or by covering up acts he committed, hiding them among crimes perpetrated by someone else. I do have evidence of his having tampered with a prior case, but nothing as brazen or horrific as what he's done here."

"If you have evidence, why hasn't he been charged?"

"Because it isn't enough. Too many people worldwide trust Coil. My division of the ICPO needs to establish a demonstrable pattern of deceptive and destructive behavior to prove that Coil is a dangerous criminal. Therefore, we will need to acquire more evidence in order to catch him. I am asking for your help."

"Dude . . ." Geoff stared at his hands, one of which was smeared with blood along one side, though it was not clear whose blood it was. "Nothing makes sense anymore."

"You are suffering from emotional trauma and are likely in a state of shock. Once you have recovered from this, you will be thinking more clearly."

"Maybe, but . . . I dunno what kind of help I'll be."

"Coil will take credit for the solution of this case. He will happily crow about his accomplishment and parade Willette in front of the media, assuming that everything has gone according to his plan. He will likely be so pleased with the bait that he will not notice the hook." L felt himself starting to slouch and stood straight again. "Odds are that Coil will want to speak to you himself anyway, but just to be sure, I want you to _ask_ to speak to him. The lead police detective on the case is Devall – you'll need to make that request through him. You will recognize Coil as an older man with blue eyes, blond hair if he isn't wearing a wig, and sundamaged wrinkly skin on a rounded face. Even if he refuses to be physically present with you, however, you will likely know him by his smug tone and faint accent – South African with a bit of Quebecois."

"Why would he even talk to me?"

"Because you were manipulated by the Butcher and are a witness to his crimes. He will want to make sure that you were only a pawn and that you know nothing of his involvement. Speaking to Devall first will help keep you safe – he is one of the few law enforcement officials not under Coil's thumb, so Coil will be less likely to silence you preemptively." L thought he detected a shudder from Geoff. "I believe you are up to the task of deceiving him, considering how well you deceived me."

Geoff winced. "I couldn't tell anyone. It would have put you in danger too. Most of the time . . . I just tried not to think about it. I tried to forget . . ." He brought both hands up and stopped just short of pressing them into his face, staring directly at the scarlet liquid covering his left thumb and forefinger.

"I recommend that you use the same approach, then. Selective memory. It is important –"

"If I _had_ told you, would you have helped me get Katie out?" Geoff's gaze pierced L's.

L blinked once. "Yes."

"Even if it meant blowing your cover?"

"I . . . would have tried to maintain my cover while helping you, but I would not have sacrificed your sister's life to do so." L wanted to believe the lie. Exchanging one cover for another, as he was doing now, was acceptable, but going further and exposing his identity as L was not. Only as a last resort, _his_ last resort, would he do such a thing.

"Oh God. Why didn't I . . ." Geoff's body was wracked with sobs as his face fell onto his folded arms. He shook in the doorway, knees still pulled up in a similar position to L's usual one.

L waited. He could not comfort him. Even knowing why he'd done it, L was angry with Geoff for his deception and his naïveté in trusting a murderer to keep his word. L was angrier still at himself for failing to discern Geoff's role until now. _People are better liars when they lie to themselves first_, he thought. _I cannot let my feelings about this distract from my goal, however_. _Not again_. _Not anymore_.

After a minute or two, L cleared his throat. "Do you wish to atone for your actions, Mr. Thornapple?"

Geoff lifted his head from his arms, face now marred by a red smear on his forehead. "Yeah."

"Then help me draw Coil out. His influence makes his unscrupulous behavior much more dangerous. You may not have known that the Butcher was killing more people, but Coil certainly did."

"Just . . . tell me what to do."

"As I said, you will need to tell Detective Devall that you must speak directly to Coil. Wait until after you have been questioned at least once by the police before making this request. Simply tell them what you told me. The police will be more interested in gathering evidence implicating Willette, so they will likely agree to a deal with you. Some punishment will be involved, of course . . ."

"I don't care. I should be punished."

"That may be so, but you said earlier that you wished you had taken action to prevent the murders that have occurred. You now have the opportunity to take preventative action, without committing murder yourself. You will be less able to act if you are incarcerated. Also, it is plausible that your parents would want to keep you out of jail or at least reduce your sentence, so you should have them contact a lawyer on your behalf to negotiate a deal with the police. It will make your grief seem more genuine than if you ask for a lawyer."

Geoff reared back, his head hitting the wall. "You think I'm _faking_ this?" His voice broke.

"I do not. However, detectives can be jaded and may see your asking for a deal as an indication that you were a more willing participant in these crimes than you say." L stared at the man, who was staring into space again. "When you have answered the police's questions, contact your parents and tell them that you do not yet have a lawyer. Then speak to Devall." Fingers dipping into a pocket, L extracted the worn business card and handed it to Geoff, who leaned forward and reached up to close the gap and take it. "You may tell Devall that Ezekiel Penn gave you this card on the day of the dance, but I must ask you not to blow my cover by telling him that I am Agent Roussel, and you must not give Coil either name. Do you understand?"

Geoff nodded but said nothing, staring at the card before tucking it into a pants pocket.

"Tell Devall that you must speak to Coil personally to give him a message from the Butcher. The police will be hesitant to allow this, but you must insist. Coil will want to hear the message without the police hearing it, since he will be afraid of what it might reveal."

"What message should I give him?"

"Hm. Something like . . ." L pressed the gloved knuckle of his thumb to his chin and looked up at the pipes lacing the ceiling.

"The puppy is dead and his prize was a whisper. If you look, you'll find his head in the crisper!"

L jumped back into a fighting stance, hammer raised and aimed at the bound figure. His eyes narrowed. "Was that a confession, Claude Willette?"

"Oh ho, you _know_, but how far will you go? The rabbit hole goes deep indeed –"

"Who is the puppy and how does he relate to the hound?" L interrupted.

"Oh so close, the piteous pawn, what will you do now your master is gone? Will you take his place in his disgrace – so much worse than the trap that caught _you_." Willette giggled, so wrapped in rope he was unable to manage more than a wormy wiggle on the floor.

L's face hardened as he met Willette's roving eye. "Did you really believe that you could best Coil _and_ continue to murder people? All under the pretense of avenging your father? You do not fool me."

Willette's eyes widened. "What pretty deception is this – are you pawn or puppy?"

L let himself feel the anger, a scowl twisting his face. _He is clearly attempting to bait me, he thought, but his terms cannot simply be random_. _Whether through his own perceptions or from things Coil has told him,_ _he seems to know more about my role in this than could have been gained through eavesdropping just now_. _Let's see what else he recognizes._ Noting Geoff's position still far enough away by the door, L dropped into a crouch, mustering the widest, most twisted grin he could, and leaned close to Willette. "It matters not if I am puppy or pawn," he rasped, "because a bitch always spawns a litter." He moved away, smile evaporating.

The Butcher jerked back and began to laugh soundlessly, body shaking, his mouth frozen open as if he were vomiting out some unseen poison.

Watching, L stayed silent, confirming to himself that Willette must have interacted with Beyond before he removed the boy's spleen. _We are all pawns_, L thought, _including you_. He stood, the hand holding the hammer hanging limp at his side, eyes half-lidded.

"When he confessed, I thought it was true," Willette's caramel brown eyes rolled sideways to meet L's, "but he must tell as many lies as _you_ do."

"Why did you kill Angelica Fragaria?"

"You pretend not to know, but it's all for show, so why should I answer?"

"Because it is possible that I am wrong, and I want to hear it in your words."

"Oh, I wasn't sure, but now I see! Pawn you are, for puppy you cannot be. Impossible for _him_ to show such humility . . ."

"Why did you murder Gellie?" L stared down at the murderer.

"Her end was a trap – it took you off the map! No other need to be decreed . . ."

"So you murdered a woman and burned her cat merely to trap someone you deem a 'pawn'? How frivolous."

"Not part of my tapestry, but woven in just the same – such a sweet, sweet smile she had, once her boyfriend, the cad, was taken out of the picture. He was in for the fix as my number six, though she was never the wiser. But what a pity her kitty had the run of the city. Every trace had to be erased, and what fun to ensnare you as well! By trapping the pawn, I sought to draw out the knight, who is locked in a fight to be king. Once the puppy was caught, his shining armor for naught, I could capture the crown of the hound. But it's true, too true, that the cupboard was bare, and I daresay that –"

"You have an appalling knack for mixing your metaphors." L kept his breathing steady, stomach twisting inside him. _So he killed Gellie because he was running out of options, after having killed her ex-boyfriend for his sixth drop, and he burned the cat to dispose of any evidence still on it, which is as I had suspected_, he thought._ Apparently "L" is the puppy and the knight, and Coil is the hound and the king_, _and Willette murdered Beyond thinking he was me_. _I wonder if Beyond intended to impersonate me as a way of shifting the murderer's focus or if he was just being impulsive_. _Perhaps he was hoping it would save his life_. L gripped the worn wooden handle of the hammer. "Where did –"

"Why did you kill Katie?" Geoff croaked, his expression bleak.

"Katie did and didn't do, though I did try to save her for you." Willette seemed almost sad, gazing toward Geoff. "But the hound insisted on setting _his_ trap, not thinking of goals that might not overlap . . . I could not go out, and with few options to spare, I could only make use of whatever was there."

"You want us to believe that you intended to allow Katie to live and only murdered her because Coil's actions required you to remain hidden?" L fought the urge to sneer.

"Believe what you like, and do as you wish, but she was always the cherry on top of this dish." The bound man grinned at the ceiling, not noticing Geoff's clenching fists. "The rescuing hound would have ventured inbound, the conquering hero at last. He would have _saved_ her, that was his plan, oh, but his glory would soon twist into quite another story. My mission, my missive, it was always to be the bright bright beacon of clarity."

Glimpsing the scattered tiles on the workbench, all of them face-down, letters hidden, L tilted his head. "So in your revised plan, her intestines would have been number twenty-two . . . Tell me, when you completed your twenty-sixth drop, would you have written out your coded message, or would you have used more body parts to spell it?"

Willette began giggling again, writhing and arching his back. "Sweet sweet epiphany – perhaps it is true and you are the puppy . . ."

"There are more players on the board than you realize. You have only noticed the most inept or self-aggrandizing participants. Or in Coil's case, both." L saw that Geoff was starting to stand, tense and trembling, his back sliding up against the doorjamb, and he raised a hand to placate him, still facing the Butcher. "Please answer the question."

"Oh so polite, yet not quite contrite . . ." Willette licked his lips. "If you really wanted to know, you'd simply let me go – I could finish my work unimpeded. But I will tell you this: it was my special bliss to collect all the ink that I needed."

_So he intended to use an alphabetic substitution cipher using drawings of body parts written in the blood of his victims, very likely in a message that would expose Coil_, L thought. _How melodramatic_. He decided not to confirm this aloud. "What message would you have sent?"

"Ha! _That_ is a secret that I'll never tell, unless you follow me straight into Hell." The Butcher beamed up at him.

L rolled his eyes. _Willette takes too much pleasure from this line of inquiry_, he thought. _Perhaps even more than revenge against Coil and a need to surpass his father, he simply desires attention_. _I will not give him the satisfaction_. "What did you do with the bodies?"

"It would have been rash to take out the trash, so I took it in and gave it purpose."

L narrowed his eyes. "You gave the remaining bodies a purpose separate from the code you were creating with your alphabet of body parts?"

"'Waste not, want not' it used to be said, and what better way to make use of the dead. Their lives all spent, angelic emissions sent, their bodies a sin to give up for –"

"Answer his fucking _question!_" Geoff's strangled shout rang in the room.

Willette twisted around, back arched, to leer up at Geoff and began singing. "To everything, burn, burn, burn, there is a season, burn, burn, burn . . ."

Eyes widening, L felt the hammer slip from his grip and clang on the concrete floor. _Of course_, he thought,_ what an obvious way to get rid of the bodies, or at least reduce them, and dispose of any other physical evidence – what he did to Lucy even hints at this!_ Dropping back into a crouch, L pressed the heels of his gloved hands into the sides of Willette's neck. The murderer met his eyes, looking deep, seeming to see something unexpected, but he did not struggle. Several long seconds later, his eyes closed, and L released him, moving back from the man cocooned in rope.

"Did . . . did you kill him?" Geoff's voice was hushed.

"Of course not. I cut off the blood flow to his brain. He is unconscious." L swiveled his head to face Geoff. "Serial killers do seem to enjoy the sound of their own voices." Bending, he lifted the hammer from the floor and extended it handle-first to Geoff. "Can I trust you not to kill him?"

"He . . ." Geoff looked from L to Willette and back again. "I dunno, man."

"I do understand how you feel, but you need to set that aside for now. He will be punished, but he must remain alive for Coil to capture. If it is any consolation, I doubt that Coil will show him any mercy."

"It's . . . not." Geoff slumped, staring at L. "But OK." Reaching out, he accepted the weapon.

"Thank you." L turned to exit the room.

"Wait – I still don't know what message to give."

"I am considering a number of different phrasings." L spoke over his shoulder. "I will return and tell you in a few moments."

"But where are you going?"

"To confirm the Butcher's claims. Even if he has used the bodies as fuel, there should still be some evidence of them left behind." Not waiting for a response, L left the room, moving swiftly past shelves and crates, impatient to find whatever remains he could. _If I can identify Beyond's remains_, he thought, _I can remove them – though if there is not enough left to identify him visually, I can at least take samples so that we can run tests_. _It's the least I can do for Beyond at this point, and it will allow Aleister some closure_. L kept moving, his steps light, determined to get closer to heat and fire, his anger at Willette and Coil fueling a fire of his own.

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Author's Note: Long section is long. Sorry for the delay in getting this posted – some annoying real life things are intervening, plus I wanted to go over events to come and make sure things connect and make sense. Not sure when I'll get the next chapter up, but hopefully it'll take less time. Unless another chapter springs fully formed from my head, it looks like we're going to 23 chapters.

A bit more insight into Geoff this time, and L finally confronts the murderer! Unfortunately, L has bigger fish to fry. I expect he'll figure out the voice thing by then. ^_^ More interaction with L's successor(s?) to come.

Thanks for reading!


	21. Emergence

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/ gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 21: Emergence

The smell could have been worse, though he could not imagine how. At least it was less oppressive now that they were out in open air. Shifting the weight pulling down one shoulder, L tried to maintain the impression that he was steadying a drunken companion – an impression that would likely be dispelled for anyone approaching them downwind.

L had been shocked to discover the pile of partially dismembered bodies in the furnace room. Staring at it in the flickering firelight, he had wondered if Willette had simply fallen behind in burning them or if he had wanted the remains found this way, a misshapen layercake of death. There had been eleven bodies, by his count, which meant that ten had either been burned in the furnace or disposed of in some other manner. L had circled the pile, visually cataloging everything, ignoring the stench of decomposition, stepping around the foul liquid seeping out at the bottom, determined to memorize every face and preparing to take samples. He had grimaced when he'd glimpsed Gellie squashed between two other bodies, her dark hair cascading over crusted blood and distending flesh as if it sought to shield the bloated, purpling dead below her. He hadn't needed to extract her to confirm that her left foot was missing. Staring at the top of the heap, L had expected to find Beyond's corpse splayed over the others. He had not expected his ankle to be grabbed.

_My reaction was well within the range of normalcy_, L thought, steadying himself against a tree in the shadows, _which makes it that much worse_. _There is no excuse for normal behavior when it runs counter to what must be done_. Luckily, no bones had been broken, he hadn't compromised his disguise, and the only witness to his yelp was not talking.

Unsure of what kind of vehicle would be coming for them, L resolved to be patient. _It has been nearly two hours since I called_, he thought; _Watari has had ample time in which to improvise_. _Whatever his feelings toward me are at this point, I do not believe that he would abandon us both_.

Extracting Beyond had been slow going – he'd been wedged in the pile of bodies, pressed against the cool back wall away from the furnace. After nearly breaking the teen's arm, L had managed to pull him loose without disrupting the rest of the pile too much, and Beyond had had no strength left in him after the ordeal. Unlike the corpses around him, Beyond had been bandaged along his side, which made L think that Willette must have tried to keep him alive for awhile before giving up. L considered this odd – almost as odd as the fact that the Butcher had discarded him without making sure he was dead, but it hadn't been the first time someone had underestimated Beyond.

Trying not to breathe through his nose and idly wishing that his prosthesis included nostril plugs, L glanced down at the half-naked teen draped over him like a filthy bedraggled doll. Beyond's dark hair was matted with grease and dried blood, his ribcage swelling against L with each rattling breath. L gripped the arm he'd almost broken, now wrapped around his shoulders, and held Beyond upright, one hand at the boy's waist just above the trousers he'd stolen from Willette's hideout, low enough to avoid pressing the bandaged incision where his spleen had been removed. Beneath the filth, Beyond's skin looked almost as pale as L's, a testament to how ill he was. He still didn't like Beyond, and he loathed the close contact, but he was glad that the boy was alive. _One less debt to pay_, L thought, _and Aleister will be happy to see him_.

"It's _you_, isn't it, Lawlipop, henh, henh, henh . . ." The voice was more gravelly than usual.

"Conserve your energy." L spoke quietly, not wanting to be overheard and determined not to let a semi-conscious teenager get a rise out of him despite the hated nickname.

"Did you save me? Or am I still there?"

"We are outside. We will be out of harm's way soon." L scanned around them, but no one else was in sight and nothing stirred the foliage.

"Henh, henh, henh . . ." Beyond twisted in L's grip, lifting his head to whisper in his ear. "To get out of harm's way, we must _become_ harm."

L recoiled from his breath, surprised that it could smell any worse than the rest of him. "That makes no sense."

"Sense is not made, it just _is_. Even _you _know that." Beyond's forehead knocked against L's temple. "He believed I was you – it was so fucking _easy_. That crazy-ass piece of shit bought it, hook, line, and stinker."

"Did you pretend to be me to stay alive?"

"Henh, henh – staying alive was just gravy in the boat." Beyond licked his lips, the moist sound too close to L's ear. "I did it to take the heat off you, to buy you _time_. It worked, didn't it? Didn't I help you, sweet Lawli?"

Fighting a rising gorge, L swallowed, his eyes continuing to survey their surroundings. "It would have _helped_ if you had stayed away. Your impulsiveness and overconfidence robbed you of safety, and you –"

"Oh, we're _safe_, Lawli-la-la . . . safe as bacon on toast . . ." Beyond's head lolled forward to rest on L's chest again.

L thought unkindly that he preferred it when he was mourning Beyond's death. He hadn't had time to remove Beyond's DNA from the scene, but he supposed that the most police would be able to do was confirm that the body from which the spleen had been taken had been in the room with the others. The police would assume that the body had been burned, or discarded elsewhere, and Beyond's DNA was not in any database, criminal or otherwise, outside of Wammy House.

When he'd peeked into the furnace, L had seen several bones there. His conclusion had been that Willette had never intended to get away with his crimes – the man would have had to be very stupid not to realize that the human body does not break down completely at the temperature levels inside a regular coal-burning furnace. _He may wish the police, and Coil, to believe that he is that stupid_, L thought, _in order to gain his own advantage_. Baggies of evidence crinkled in his pockets, including samples he'd taken from Willette himself.

At least Beyond was able to stand with help now. He'd had to carry the boy out of the furnace room, leaving his semi-conscious form slumped in the hallway while he ran back to speak to Geoff once more. Giving Geoff the message he wanted to be relayed to Coil, L had then told him, "You must use the skills you acquire as a doctor to balance what you've done by saving lives." After acknowledging his agreement, he had informed the grad student of the bodies in the furnace room and told him to call the police after 30 minutes had elapsed, turning away to leave him behind still standing over the bound Willette. L had made at least one wrong turn that had turned out right enough – he'd found the door that led down to the tunnel below. He'd left the circular metal door ajar for others to find and gone back the other way, back up and out through the front door of the power plant, the night air holding a sharper chill to it, cutting the heat within him, and against him. _I hope Watari arrives soon_, L thought.

"You hate me because we're the same." Beyond's breath gusted against his shirt.

Eyes cutting to the back of the boy's head, L frowned. "I do not hate you, and we are _not_ the same."

"Then why did he believe me?" Beyond's head raised lazily. "It's not really our looks. No one knows that –"

"Why did a delusional murderer believe you?" L raised an eyebrow, his wide eyes meeting Beyond's half-lidded ones. "A better question might be why did you believe _him_ when he said he believed you?"

"Henh, henh . . . Claudy-lawdy may have been batshit crazy, but he was no moron." Loose arm swinging up, Beyond grabbed the front of L's shirt, bunching it in his fist, and rasped into L's ear. "Like it or not, he was on _our_ side. He was double-crossing Coil – catching that old fuck was his plan all along. If you hadn't gotten involved, he might actually have pulled it off, too."

Mouth twisting, L remained stock-still, staring into the night, refusing to turn and meet Beyond's dark bloodshot eyes again. "That may be true, but he was murdering people to achieve those results, and there is no justification for that."

"You sound like Ally-oop. Who's the successor now, eh?"

As headlights swung into view, L adjusted his grip on Beyond, ignoring the hushed laughter tickling his neck. "Get ready. We will need to move quickly."

"Oh, will we?"

L kept his tone even as he saw a red pick-up truck turn onto the access road into the park. "Do you want to live?"

"Henh, henh, henh, do _you?_"

"Just be ready to move when I say."

"Yes _mas_ter! And when you say jump, I'll ask how high, would you like that?"

L fought the urge to throw Beyond to the ground. "I'd _like_ it if you shut the fuck up."

"Henh, henh, henh!" Letting go of L's shirt, his head rearing and coming to rest on the tree behind them, Beyond stared up into the branches intersecting the night sky, giving L a brief respite from the heat of his breath. Grinning into darkness as the red pick-up truck rolled to a stop nearby, he said "Lawli-lawli-la, I wonder . . . would you like it if I just told you? I owe you a gift, after all . . ."

Rolling his eyes, L turned away, looking toward the vehicle, hoping it held who he thought it would. "You may tell me whatever you like once we have reached our destination."

"Our _destination_ . . . it's always the same – the rot, the ruin, the waste. All predetermined no matter what we do. I almost wish you could tell me, but it's an insight only I possess . . ."

"You are extremely dehydrated and suffering from an advanced infection. Your thinking will be more lucid once you have regained your health." L could see Watari now, walking in front of the truck and lifting its hood as though inspecting an engine malfunction. He was dimly amused to see that the older man was wearing dirty overalls, his grey hair mussed and standing out almost as much as his own. "Come on." L hoisted Beyond and started walking, half-dragging the teen along as they approached the access road.

"Oh sweet, sweet Lawli . . ." Beyond's voice rasped, slick scales over dry grass. "Barely four months past thirty-three . . ."

L ignored him. Even if he wanted to understand why Beyond would riddle him over things that could not be known, he wouldn't give the rantings of an ailing teen much credit. L did not know why Beyond believed in fate and simply chalked it up to a flaw in logic. Lurching as one, gripping each other, they approached their unlikely chariot, moving toward a destination beyond what either of them could see.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

"Stop splashing, you berk! We don't have time for nonsense, we've got to –"

"Nonsense always has time for _us_, Ally-oop." Beyond was sitting, slumped, in the shower stall, occasionally raising a hand to deflect water onto Aleister.

"You can't go round smelling like a corpse – we'll attract too much attention. Just let me finish cleaning you." Aleister was very aware of the time constraints. As he wielded the sudsy washcloth, he could hear L and Watari moving about the suite, packing everything up, doing a quick cleaning of each room. It wouldn't do for any DNA or fingerprints to be left here, either, even if the police never connected this suite to the Missing Parts case or Officer Maulty's murder.

"Henh, henh – is _this_ doin' anything for ya?" Beyond leered, eyes almost closed, as he waved his limp member in Aleister's direction.

"Ooh yes, nothing better than a flaccid willie on a half-drowned imbecile who smells like death to get _me_ going. I can barely contain myself."

"Henh henh henh!" Beyond gave in to giggles. "You're so much more fun when you get all pissed off. Wonder if it's as fun when you're pissed _on_ . . ."

"If you piss on me, I will cut it off!" Aleister shouted, and felt immediately embarrassed as Beyond laughed harder. "You just did that so they'd hear me shout, didn't you."

"Told you – you're so much fun . . ." Beyond's grin seemed plastered on as his eyes closed fully and he started slumping more to the side.

"Don't you pass out on me either!" Setting the washcloth aside, Aleister reached up to lightly slap his cheek. "We're almost done – just lean forward a bit. There's still muck in your hair."

Mouth twisting slightly, Beyond pushed away from the back wall of the stall and let his head droop closer to Aleister, the jet of water from the shower spraying off of his back and head. "Fine."

Squirting out another palmful of shampoo, Aleister worked it into Beyond's hair, not trying to be gentle anymore, just trying to get him clean and be done with it. "Keep your eyes closed – it'll sting if this gets in."

"Henh henh . . . it always stings the first time . . ."

Aleister exhaled sharply. "I can't decide if you're more or less hilarious when you're this out of it. You're like a . . . a drunken ten-year-old."

"Henh, considering you've called me a five-year-old before, does that mean I'm more mature like this?"

"Yes, that's the odd bit. Then again, if you were less mature than usual, you'd be sub-infantile – a fetus. Lends a new relevance to 'Beyond Birthday', don't you think?" Aleister didn't feel entirely comfortable taunting his friend in his vulnerable state, but he knew better than to act too sympathetic. Beyond never reacted well to that.

"A new relevance? Henh henh – how do you know that isn't my original meaning?"

"That would require forethought on your part – something of which you're obviously incapable." Aleister tossed his hair as he began rinsing the soap out of Beyond's.

"You'd be surprised, Ally-oop, you'd be surprised . . ."

Aleister looked at Beyond's still-bent head warily. "So does that mean you intended for the murderer to capture you?"

Beyond swung his head up, sending an arc of water Aleister's way. "Intentions, detentions, retentions, conventions – all irrelevant." His eyes sparked. "We are what we _are_, and what happens _must_ happen. I learned so much, Ally. I saw him, saw what he really was – I could almost taste his mind. It's all clear now. Everything happens for a reason. I wasn't really sure what I was doing before, but I know now. I understand."

"Beyond, what are you –"

"I can't tell you yet – there's too much to think about. But you'll understand too, soon. I promise."

Aleister suppressed a shiver as he reached up to shut off the flow of water, the last of it draining away with a hollow choking noise. His pajamas were soaked from Beyond's splashing, and he'd have to change quickly. Grabbing a towel to daub the water from his friend's body, he noticed some blood seeping through the bandage and knew he'd need to clean and redress it quickly. Thumping sounds of suitcases dropped on carpet in the next room indicated there was little time left. They'd be on the move within the hour, perhaps faster than he wanted to go.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

"Ah, Toronto – I feel that we are old friends now. Greetings and salutations to you all! I would happily lift a glass in celebration with you to share in the joy of this moment. And what are we celebrating? Why, the capture of the Toronto Butcher of course! A deeply disturbed individual by the name of Claude Miller. I have just now seen him brought to his cell, the first of many cages in which he will live out the rest of his short life. The last puzzle piece fell right into place as expected, with the help of an on-campus informant. We have located additional remains, and the Toronto Metropolitan Police are working to identify all of them so that their families may have closure at last. This nightmare is finally over. My duties here are done. But no – serving you was no mere obligation! It was an _honor_ to do right by this city and stop these brutal murders. Thank you all so much, and may fair Toronto flourish once more. Adieu!"

Keeping his eyes closed, L pretended not to hear the announcement blaring out of the radio. He longed to reach for the remaining candy, but not even sugar was worth being beset with questions he did not want to answer. Soft edges of dawn peeked in through his closed lids as the ridges of his back pressed into supple leather. The rumble and purr as they continued along the highway was soothing – almost too soothing. L was vaguely amused at the notion that he might actually fall asleep while pretending to be asleep. Several ideas on what he would do to defeat Coil had already shuffled through his mind, and more were coming. _I will need to prioritize_, he thought. _Surgical strike, bloodless – erode the trust of Coil's allies, cripple his operation, and when he's distracted by that . . . give Devall what he needs to close the case of Maulty's murder, correctly_. _It's only fair_.

He was relieved to be done recounting his analysis of Coil's coded messages to Willette in his previous announcements. L suspected that Watari had only asked him to do so for the benefit of his two successors, only one of whom had been paying even the slightest attention, though it was also possible that the older man had simply wanted his three passengers occupied enough to allow him some peace while driving. The "mistakes on two and five" Coil had referred to had been dirt that had not matched the scene and a hesitation mark possibly indicating that the bone saw had jammed, all of which had been detailed in the police reports. The "error on thirteen" had indicated that Coil believed Willette had intended for the blood on the ground to match that in the container, but L did not believe that had been Willette's intention. L wondered if Coil had actually helped Willette pick out victims who were not in the system, but dismissed the idea as too hands-on for the older detective. Regarding clues, "the ones you meant to leave, and the ones you didn't" as Coil had put it, L was certain that Coil had simply been telling Willette not to be too sloppy. _Coil didn't want me to beat him to the solution_, L thought, _and it would have looked even worse for him if a regular detective had solved the case, which in fact nearly happened_. When Coil had spoken of Willette "making people suffer for the sins" of his "forebears," he'd been implying that Willette was punishing the people of Toronto in retaliation for what had happened to his father, thus preparing the fabricated motivation Coil would provide for Willette to the police. Telling the Butcher that he was "running out of time" had just been Coil's way of telling Willette to wrap it up and prepare for the end game.

The latest announcement had been annoying to hear, but L didn't let it bother him. _It is interesting that Coil has chosen to use Willette's alias instead of his real name on-air_, L thought. _In all likelihood, he is seeking to prevent police and the public from making the connection to the Mississauga Murders case, since he managed to expunge the case files, but this will not work in the longterm without collusion from the police, as there are too many officers who remember that case first hand not to notice eventually_. _Saying that the Butcher occupies the "first of many cages" suggests that Coil had made an agreement with Willette to avoid execution, and after all, not every cage is a prison_. _Perhaps Coil intends to employ the man in some capacity_ . . . He let his right hand slip off his knee as if in sleep, surreptitiously worming it into his pocket. L suspected that Coil's reference to the "last puzzle piece" falling into place was a subtle dig at Willette, maintaining the public impression that the Butcher had been assembling a puzzle rather than crafting an alphabet for a message he had yet to send. L didn't know what the exact wording of the message would have been, but the conversation he'd had with Willette had given him the gist of it. _Seems almost unfair that Coil gets to spew his misinformation and Willette does not_, L thought, _but we're already past two wrongs at this point, and none of them will make a right_ . . .

Loading the car for their journey northeast had gone more smoothly than expected, with Beyond being surprisingly cooperative, though he'd been in no condition to help them pack and carry things. In the pre-dawn darkness behind the hotel, he'd tried to help Watari fit everything into the trunk before being shooed away to occupy the interior with his erstwhile successors. L had removed the awful blond wig as soon as the tinted windows of the limousine shielded him from potentially prying eyes and immediately popped a root beer barrel in his mouth, staring at the two boys who had seemed to be gazing at the floor. Still sucking on the candy, L had said "At my request, Watari has hired a male prostitute who resembles me."

Beyond, barely awake, had snickered and slumped toward the door on the other side of Aleister, who sputtered in shock. "I'm sorry, what?" had been Aleister's response.

"This person will be making himself visible traversing the outskirts of the Toronto University campus, thus giving any observers the impression that Ezekiel Penn has not yet departed." L had replied. "Watari's friend Chauncey was unavailable to assist, so we are having his associate Lopov shadow the prostitute to ensure that he is not apprehended by police, or anyone else. Then we'll be providing him plane tickets out of the area, in a different direction than we are taking. Odds are the prostitute will be safer than he usually is on the street." L had then raised an eyebrow at Aleister's still-dubious expression. "I do not believe Watari intended to employ him for his regular services."

Aleister had rolled his eyes at L. "I'm relieved to hear it. And thanks very much for the horrific image."

L just managed not to smile at the memory, keeping his face slack and his breathing slow. His fingers toyed with the pink hair tie in his pocket, unseen by the others in the car. The two hairs that had been entangled with it had since been separated in an evidence bag, as had been the unused condom, just in case. L wasn't sure exactly why the hair tie had been packed with his things from his dorm room. _No, of course I know why_, he thought; _Aleister likely assumed I would want some memento of my . . . I'm not even sure what to call it_. _Tryst? Misadventure?_ _First and possibly last sexual experience?_ _Hm, that's closer to it_. _Aleister is far too sentimental sometimes_. Continuing to stroke the elastic circle, L allowed his head to drop back against the leather seat, heedless of the two teens to his left.

Consciousness was slipping as Toronto slipped behind them, and L let it. It would be awhile still before they arrived in Montreal. He remembered Watari's favorite quote from Winston Churchill: "If you're going through hell, keep going!" _And if I can actually sleep through part of the journey_, L thought, _so much the better_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: Ah Beyond. Such a subtle sense of humor. ^_^ You didn't think I'd actually kill him, did you? And yes, I used the fanon nickname for L because it sounds precisely like something L would hate, and thus something Beyond would taunt him with. Sorry again for the delay – life is . . . intrusive. I'm still working out the ending for this, so it may be 23 chapters or it may be as many as 25. Too soon to tell. *bangs head on desk*

As an aside, the song I'm hearing as sort of a theme for L and B is "Solaris" by Failure. As to from whose perspective the lyrics might be, I will leave for you to decide.

Thanks for reading!


	22. Expulsive Dispersion

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/ gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

_He would have given anything in the world to be alone; but he knew himself that he would not have remained alone for a moment._

– excerpt from _Crime and Punishment_, Fyodor Dostoevsky

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 22: Expulsive Dispersion

"But it's wrong!"

"Of course it's wrong. It is what he would do."

"But that's exactly why you shouldn't do it!"

"Actually, that is precisely why I must do it. These are the actions I must take, and quickly. He will expect me to spend the time to build up an elaborate plan to neutralize him entirely."

"And why would he expect that?"

"Because it is what I would have done and still want to do. This will be quick and dirty – _not_ my style. Closer to Deneuve's, but then again she prefers to toy with her targets first . . ." L pulled at his lip. "Even if Coil does expect the worst, my history has shown him that I have been unwilling to take such steps. There are lines I have refused to cross, and he knows it. If he flatters himself that I will react in a more extreme way to his attempt to entrap me, he will still not expect me to not only cross those lines but to go further than he has."

"That just makes you worse than him."

"It means that I will succeed."

"At what cost?" Aleister's eyes flashed. "Do you think you'll have got through all this unchanged? Once you've done it . . . if you do succeed, you'll just be tempted to do it again, and then –"

"No." L kept his face blank, though his nostrils flared. "I will _not_ do this again. One and done, as they say. Even if I were to be tempted, I would resist. It would be unwise to fall into easily predictable habits in any event . . ."

"This is not the way to pay Coil back for his crimes! To allow ourselves any kind of moral authority, we have to hold ourselves to a higher standard than that of the criminals we apprehend."

"It depends on the standard – what's being measured and how. Only insofar as recurring behavior –"

"Don't delude yourself! The second you make one exception, it becomes easier to make more. This business we're in, of solving crimes, requires us to stand morally firm, yet . . . even being _aware_ of so many horrific acts affects us. We rocks at the shoreline are chipped and smoothed away, relentlessly reduced – we don't grow and become, we are whittled down and shaped by what we can't control. The choices we could have made, the things we could have been . . . they're all taken from us to become sand at our feet." Aleister ran a hand over his face.

"All the more reason to control what we can, and stop what will harm others."

"That's no justification for such a monstrous lie! Think of all the people who lost their lives because Coil deceived the police and manipulated an unstable man into becoming a serial killer!"

"Willette would have become a killer on his own. It is even possible that Coil delayed Willette by giving him a specific goal. Coil was careful. Even with coherent and fully cooperative testimony from Willette, the acquisition of which would be unlikely at best, it would be nearly impossible to prove that Coil set him to his task. We have no records of their conversations, and Willette made all of the choices in terms of who to kill and how – I would go so far as to say that he likely surprised Coil in the way he carried out his murders. Odds are Coil expected him to kill in a pattern more similar to his father's. And despite the fact that Willette intended to double-cross Coil, I doubt that he would have succeeded. People tend not to take the word of a proven murderer over that of the world's best detective."

"A rank you seek, not uncoincidentally."

"The rank itself is irrelevant. Its only use is in greater access to information and assistance from law enforcement. And as to the people who lost their lives, Aleister," L said, meeting his eyes, "think of all the people who could yet lose their lives as a consequence of the choices Coil will continue to make. He has falsified evidence before and gotten away with it, and on this case, his behavior has escalated to collusion with a murderer and to murder itself. Coil is a danger to everyone and must be stopped."

"You've no idea what he'll do next, you've no –"

"Exactly. Which is why I will give him just enough rope with which to hang himself."

"And you don't think he'll see right through that?"

"He will underestimate me. To be fair, he _should_ have low expectations of me, considering how close I came to falling completely into his trap." L's mouth twisted.

"See, this is exactly what I was afraid of. You're reacting emotionally – a thing I might otherwise rejoice if it weren't making you so reckless. I know you think you aren't, that this is all about logic and preventing future crime, but stooping to Coil's level or even below to do so won't serve you well. You'll hate yourself for this, when it's done. All the anger you feel toward Coil will be directed inward, toward yourself."

"No, Aleister. That is how _you_ would feel." L sighed, glancing through the door at the still-unopened luggage on the floor of their Montreal suite. "You mentioned the pitfalls of empathy to me once. I believe I understand now. But I do not feel empathy as you do. As to my anger . . . it is already directed at myself, for failing. Coil is simply a criminal who must be caught. At most, what I feel toward him now is pity. But whatever my failings are, his are far worse, and he poses a greater danger as a result. I will be using his own energy against him – a judo tactic, applied in non-physical terms."

Aleister was shaking his head, eyes closed. "Rationalize it however you like, it's still wrong."

"Considering that Coil's own behavior will be what determines his fate –"

"Don't talk to me of fate!" Aleister's shout rang in the room. "You don't even believe in it!"

"Do you?"

"I . . . I don't bloody know anymore . . ."

The bend in L's back became more pronounced. "I would have thought that you would at least be pleased that Coil will be brought to justice for murdering Officer Maulty."

"Do _not_ get me started on justice again – I've already said my bit on that, and you still don't understand." Aleister turned away. "And you damn well know that's not the part of your plan I object to."

Placing a thumb to his lip, L watched the other boy pace. "Yes, I know. But in a sense, he really did kill Ezekiel Penn."

"No, actually, _you_ killed Ezekiel Penn by giving up your role as him."

L blinked. "You believe that I should have allowed the police to arrest me?"

Aleister angled his head to face him. "Yes."

"Hm. I can imagine Watari's reaction to that."

"As can I. Though you're not exactly taking orders from him anymore, are you?"

Eyes narrowing, L dropped his thumb from his lip. "That situation was already explained to you, and it occurred _after_ Coil attempted to frame me."

"I know that. _And_ I know that you could have gone back and turned yourself in, as a material witness to a crime. So why didn't you?"

"Because I did not trust the police to reach the correct conclusions."

"Wrong. It's because you didn't trust _yourself_ to convince them. Coil's got you second-guessing your abilities, and it's making you resort to _mimicking_ him."

Fists in his pockets, L regarded the sandy-haired teen with his arms crossed glaring at him from across the small bedroom. He considered trying to explain further – he even considered conceding the point that he'd made some mistakes and that his confidence had suffered. But he knew that no matter what concession he offered, Aleister would not give up until he'd convinced L not to proceed, and L fully intended to proceed. _It seems Aleister has a greater strength of will than he realizes_, he thought. _He may be more worthy of this role than I am, though I will not make the mistake of telling him that again_.

"Nothing to say to that, then?" Aleister raised an eyebrow.

"Attempting to draw my ire by comparing my behavior to B's is a painfully obvious ploy to manipulate me. I had thought you above such things."

"That's . . . that's not the bloody point!" Hair tossing, Aleister's face flushed red. "I'm trying to save you from making a mistake you'll regret!"

"There are things I regret, Aleister, but this will not be one of them. When Coil falls, he will deserve to do so."

"Then you'll deserve to fall with him."

"If that's so, then I already deserve to fall for having made the decision to follow my plan." L lowered his gaze to the scattered papers on the desk beside Aleister. "Coil will be convicted of two murders: Maulty and Penn. You cannot 'save' me. By your estimation, I am already lost."

"Not until you've actually done it, you're not! People _think_ all sorts of things – it doesn't count until you do it! Using Coil's actions against himself doesn't give you a neat little moral out. You're still responsible –"

"I never said that I had a 'moral out,' and I've accepted my responsibility. Your only real point here is that _you_ wouldn't do this, which I already know. I –"

"No, I bloody well wouldn't do it! I'd rather die."

L raised his eyebrows. "You would die to preserve the reputation of a deluded and self-aggrandizing murderer who regularly manipulates worldwide law enforcement to his own ends?"

Aleister's jaw clenched. "I would rather die than become one."

For a long moment, L simply stared at him. The other teen stared back, his lips pressed together, the faintest of tremors along Aleister's arms making it seem as though the blood rushing through his veins was unbalancing him from within. _I suppose on some level_, L thought, _we all react emotionally, though it is important to curb this_. _I already know that I will not become what Coil has, regardless of what Aleister believes_. L knew the risks his plan entailed and the compromises he was making, but he also knew that he couldn't let Coil go. Resolute, he stepped toward the door. "You will have your chance to try things your way. There is one condition, however." L looked over his shoulder. "Don't die."

"_Please_ don't do this, L." Aleister's voice cracked.

"The evidence is already in place. I knew when I started this case that there was a possibility that I might have to stage the death of my alias, though I did not anticipate the circumstances. For that reason, Watari kept blood, skin cells, and hair samples from the same untraceable donor refrigerated and ready to use. Remember Lopov? After shadowing the male prostitute who looks like me and getting him out of the city over two hours ago, he then placed some of the DNA evidence we provided not far from the university using my specific instructions. The police will find the planted blood and black hair on a rock on the riverbank, with Coil's fingerprints on it, just upstream from a set of my cleaned and then river-muddied clothes. According to the confirmation I received earlier from Lopov, Ezekiel Penn's ID and keys are in the jeans pocket, exactly as planned. It shouldn't be long now. I was not asking for your advice on this matter – I was merely informing you as a courtesy." L stepped out of the room, noting the hitched breath of the boy he was leaving behind.

Coil's fingerprints, acquired during the case in Brazil, had been molded onto a rubber glove specially made by Watari a month after that case had ended – a precautionary measure. This glove had been loaned to Lopov to place Coil's fingerprints on the rock with the DNA evidence and hair from the untraceable donor, as well as on Ezekiel Penn's student ID/magnetic key. The ID and other keys would also be marked with the fake fingerprints for Ezekiel Penn. In addition, the unfortunate encounter L had had with Coil had given him what he needed to lead police to the correct conclusion regarding Maulty's murder – Maulty's blood had gotten on his clothes, and certainly the blood that had gotten on his gloves and sneakers had been well-preserved. This too was only a matter of proper placement and context. Lopov had obtained a pair of boots identical to those Coil had worn and had anointed them with Maulty's blood, some tunnel-grime, and Coil's fingerprints, and he'd already placed them behind a dumpster near the five-star hotel where Coil seemed to have been staying. L was still waiting for Lopov to confirm that he'd made the anonymous call to the police reporting "bloodied boots" to ensure that they'd be found before some opportunist made off with them.

L also knew the predicament of at least one of the men in Coil's employ, and he knew how to render Coil's blackmail of the man moot. _After I've hacked into Coil's offshore finances_, he thought, _he will almost certainly assign this man to handle the problem_. _Then I will propose a deal with this Jason Loud to expunge the record of Loud's forgery and embezzlement so that he will help me further the erosion of Coil's power_. _No doubt this man will welcome his freedom, since it will allow him to spend more time with his family_. _Aleister does not understand_. _I am dismantling a decades-in-the-making empire of a man who has become a villain_. _I do not undertake this lightly_.

"So that's it, then." The boy's voice followed L over the threshold. "You're just embracing revenge and deceit as a way of life?"

"Of course not. Coil is just another criminal. The scope of what he has done and will do is why I must stop him." L paused just outside the door, his head cocked to one side, eyes focused on distant rooms. "Will you stop me?"

The short gusts of Aleister's breathing were all that broke the silence for a few moments. When his voice finally came, it was low and even. "'Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.'"

Frowning, L peered back through the doorway at the other teen. "Crowley? Interesting. Though that statement entirely negates what you were saying earlier."

"Back when Beyond and I were allowed to change our designations, Aleister Crowley's ideas, and that quote in particular, were the reasons I chose my name. It fit how I felt at the time. I was angry at what I'd lost and didn't believe that justice was even achievable. To pare everything down to the basics and get rid of pointless laws that never seemed to be properly enforced anyway made the most sense to me. But I never lost the notion that we are all responsible for the consequences of our own actions." Aleister's fists were at his sides, still shaking slightly, his face tinged red. "I understand things a bit better now. Justice _can_ be achieved, but only through kindness, not cruelty and manipulation. Whatever you may do, whatever you may think of me, please at least remember that."

Ignoring reflected light in the driplines on the boy's face, L held his gaze and nodded once. "I will remember." He turned and walked away, hearing a heavy sigh in his wake to join the chorus of soft breathing wafting in from the other rooms of the suite.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

He was used to creating diversions and fabricating identities, but this was the first time he'd done so in a non-instructive or non-illicit capacity. He felt he really ought to have been giving it his full attention, but he was finding it quite difficult to concentrate.

_I decided he was alive, and he is – I know there's no cause and effect to that, but still . . . it nearly feels like a victory_, Aleister thought. _Yet his eyes . . . the way he speaks to us . . . it's as if he's lost something of himself, as though I'd wished him back with a monkey's paw_. He shook the thought from his head. _He's traumatized, that's all_. _Who wouldn't be_. _Beyond will be back to his usual modus operandi soon enough if the metric ton of antibiotics Watari's gotten him is any indication_.

One of the more surreal intervals of the trip from Toronto to Montreal had been the scant few hours when he'd been bookended by two sleeping black-haired boys, both of whom were so different yet so important to him. He'd had a too-brief nap himself as well, awaking to a squabble over snacks. Watari had barely spoken the entire way. From what Aleister had been able to ascertain since then, L was continuing to move forward with his morally questionable plan to ensnare Coil and had already placed some calls to the ICPO to vouch for his invented agent, Roussel. Since they had needed to change locations quickly, Aleister hadn't been able to work in earnest on creating all of the false paperwork needed for L's new identities before they'd left, but now that he had the time and the resources, he just couldn't focus. The argument he'd had with L several hours earlier, shortly after they'd checked in, hadn't helped. _I can't think about that now_, Aleister thought, biting back anguish, _I've got to keep working_.

As a child one summer, Aleister had found a rotting opossum under a discarded metal breadbox, but even that aroma had seemed sweet compared with the horrific stench that had invaded the Toronto suite when L and Beyond had entered. He'd somehow managed not to retch and had embraced Beyond, who had barely been able to stand on his own. "I knew you were alive!" Aleister had exclaimed. "You're too bloody stubborn to die!"

"Damn right I am, Ally-oop," Beyond had responded, his throat sounding raw, "but are you?"

Aleister still didn't know what to make of that, and L's explanation that Beyond was delirious was unsatisfying. _Beyond's always been a bit mad_, he thought, _but he does seem different_. Aleister sighed. _Who am I bloody kidding – we're __**all**__ different now_. Rubbing his eyes with a palm, his thoughts pulled him reluctantly back to his last conversation with L, his gut twisting. _He's making a horrible mistake and he won't listen to anyone_, Aleister thought. _Is it too much to hope that he'll have an epiphany once he's gone through with it?_ _Coil is awful, I've no doubt of that, but framing him for two murders, even one he actually committed, is still wrong_. He shook his head, hair tickling his eyebrows. _Had he been conscious, Beyond would have sided with L on this, I think – maybe __**that**__ would have convinced him not to go forward with his plan_.

Thinking about the direction L's plans might take him brought a lump to his throat, and Aleister struggled to suppress these thoughts again. _No point agonizing over decisions he's already made_, he thought. _I've no choice in the matter_. _I can't decide which is worse, L becoming Coil or L dying because he tried to be like Coil_. Aleister shook his head. _No, no, death is worse – living at least leaves open the possibility that he'll learn_. _There's always a chance, there's always hope_ . . .

Finishing up the last bit of system hacking to plant the rest of Roussel's background information for the ICPO to dig up later, Aleister leaned back in his chair, yawning and stretching his arms over his head, one hand on a bent elbow. He hadn't slept in almost 24 hours, and he hated that his stamina was already flagging.

"All done?"

Body jerking, Aleister almost fell out of the chair. Re-righting himself, he looked sheepishly over his shoulder at Watari, who was regarding him with concern from the doorway. "Well, the last of the important bit's finished. I've still got one more diversion to rig to keep our trail clean, but that should do us until we've left the country."

"Excellent work, Aleister." Watari's smile seemed weary. "Once you've completed that, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you get some rest."

"Ye gods, no – not _that_. However will I cope . . ."

Watari chuckled. "It's good to see that there's at least one of you whom I don't have to coerce into sleeping."

"It's my fatal flaw of being sensible." A smile ghosted over Aleister's face. "How is he?"

"Stable for now, and sedated."

"Well, that's one way around coercion . . ." Aleister dropped his eyes, swallowing. "Think he'll . . . I mean, is he –"

"Beyond will live." Watari's voice sounded firm. "It's only been a day, I know, but his color is better and the antibiotics appear to be working."

"Good. I'm a bit worried about how all this has affected him. He puts a brave face on things, but . . ."

Watari walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It will take him some time to heal, both physically and emotionally. He will need your friendship, perhaps most especially when it seems he does not."

Aleister nodded. "I'll do my best."

"You always do, my boy."

Eyes darting to the scribbled notes on the desk, Aleister pressed his lips together. "When is _he_ coming back?"

"L should be boarding the flight I booked him shortly."

Aleister's mouth dropped open. "That's it? No goodbye, _again?_" He felt his cheeks warming. "Not even a final word on the case?"

"You know him as well as any of us." Resignation colored Watari's voice. "He is not fond of protracted goodbyes."

"Bloody hell . . ." Aleister scowled and felt the hand lift from his shoulder. "You should have told me so that the diversions I've already set up wouldn't conflict with his plans."

"I apologize."

"Oh, it's alright." Aleister relented. "I'll make some quick changes to cover for it." As Watari turned to exit the room, another thought occurred to Aleister. "Did we ever find out what the Butcher's coded message would have been?"

Watari stopped at the threshold. "Beyond asked that very question on our way back to the Sojourner on Sunday night. L said that to expend any effort to puzzle out the intended message would have granted the Butcher undeserved relevance. To my surprise, I find myself agreeing – it is always foolish to stroke the ego of a sociopath."

"But . . . I would have thought L wanted to know _why_ Willette took to murdering people. The message might have lent some clue as to his reasoning."

"I scarcely think reason is applicable with regard to this murderer's motivations."

"Well, I suppose you've a point there." Aleister traced his jawline with a knuckle. "I'm surprised Beyond accepted that."

"Oh, he didn't. He was quite frustrated, in fact."

A sharp exhalation escaped Aleister's mouth. "I still can't believe that L is letting Coil take credit for solving the case." He clenched his jaw, suppressing his feelings regarding L's plan to entrap Coil. _Watari obviously knows all about that_, Aleister thought. _Did he go along with what L wanted out of resignation, or did he actually agree with him?_

"It's necessary, I'm afraid, if Coil is to be stopped. All a part of the larger trap for him."

Eyes widening, Aleister looked Watari in the eye. "So you're allowed to talk to me about it? That's refreshing."

A half-smile touched Watari's face briefly. "I was not given explicit permission, but I can only presume that you already know about it. I trust that you'll keep any details to yourself."

"Of course. I expect Beyond knows as well, and I can assure you –"

"It might be best if you don't discuss it with him, actually." Watari's eyes were hooded. "Considering the events of the past few months, we should avoid encouraging Beyond to 'help' in any investigations for awhile."

"Ah." Aleister's face fell. _So that's how it is_, he thought, mouth twisting. "That will be . . . challenging."

"Indeed it will." Nodding solemnly, Watari turned to leave.

"What . . . happened? Between you and L, I mean."

Watari stopped, back still turned, remaining silent for a moment. "Nothing you need worry about, Aleister."

"As you and he have both told me, worrying is unnecessary anyway. I just want to know what happened, and if there's anything I can do." Aleister's hands fidgeted in his lap.

"He . . ." Watari sighed, face turned just enough so that Aleister could see the pink shell of his ear but not his eyes. "He has gotten out of the habit of sharing his thoughts with me of late as a consequence of a minor disagreement over the handling of certain elements of the investigation. That is all you need know."

"I'm not a child." The words vaulted past Aleister's lips, and he blushed.

"Of course you aren't." Looking over his shoulder, Watari's eyes showed warmth. "You're all growing up. It's shocking how quickly that's happened. But I am not withholding information from you because I think you can't handle it – I am doing so in deference to him."

Aleister sighed. _Did he really think L murdered the police officer?_ he wondered. _Or did L mislead me?_ "All these bloody secrets . . ."

"I know it's frustrating, but some secrets must be kept."

"Secrets aren't far removed from lies, you know." Aleister's eyes flashed.

"Cousins, perhaps. But surely there are secrets you've kept."

"There are. That doesn't make them good."

"I never said they were good, Aleister. Just necessary some of the time. If L asks me to keep his confidence, I will do so – as I would do for you, or for any of you. Our secrets and our choices belong to us, always. There is no escaping that responsibility." Watari bowed his head slightly and walked into the next room.

"I love him," Aleister blurted out, the words seeming to burn the air around him.

Several moments passed, the doorway empty. "I know." Watari's voice floated across the space he'd just vacated. "And I will keep that secret to myself – as should you."

Soft footsteps let Aleister know that Watari had walked out of range. Hot tears stung his eyes, and he blotted them with his sleeve. _Right then_, he thought; _stiff upper lip and get back to fucking work_. _No actual emotions allowed_. Aleister spun the chair to face the computer, mouth working. He wondered if L knew the truth or if such a notion as love was so irrelevant to him that he couldn't know. _He thought my finding him attractive was preposterous_, Aleister thought. _If he knew I felt more than that, he'd likely avoid me completely_. He wondered how many messages, coded or not, L did not bother to puzzle out, or if he puzzled through them all and told no one. Aleister hoped the latter was true. _Better secrets than ignorance_, he thought.

Cracking his knuckles, he bent to his task once more, hacking into an airline's scheduling records. _By the time I'm done_, Aleister thought, _Coil will think L's in Alaska. In drag_. _With Elvis_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: Poor Aleister. He and L just don't see eye-to-eye on certain things. And Aleister's ideas about Mr. Crowley are entirely his own, fyi. There are times when I think Aleister has better rapport with Watari than L does, but then again he seems to have better rapport with everyone.

Three chapters left (pretty sure) and heading into the home stretch.

Thanks for reading!


	23. To Sleep, Perchance to Drown

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 23: To Sleep, Perchance to Drown

"Detective Devall, this is Ezekiel Penn. I apologize for contacting you in this manner. I gave your card to a friend, and I do not currently have access to a phone in any event. As you may already have deduced, I have gone into hiding for fear for my life. I witnessed something . . . horrific. Though I initially thought myself unnoticed, it seems that was not the case. I wish now that I had heeded your advice and discontinued my admittedly amateur investigation. But there is information I must pass on to you, while I have the chance, and I must implore you to keep it to yourself, for now. I trust your judgment, and I need your help.

"You must be aware by now that the man who was following me on campus was Officer Maulty. It was some time before I recognized him, and I nearly confronted him, but ultimately I decided to wait and see if he would speak to me first. On the night of the dance, however, while I was out taking a walk, he saw me and began shouting, waving his gun in an alarming manner. He chased me, and . . . I panicked. I ran and hid. I should have spoken to him then, stood up to him, but . . . I was afraid that he would shoot me. I thought I'd lost him when I climbed down into a tunnel behind the cafeteria, but he followed me in. Just as I thought he would turn my way and see me, I heard another man's voice. He walked toward him and seemed to recognize him. I stayed hidden and tried to listen, but between the echo and their distance from me, their words were difficult to make out. I know that Maulty asked 'Why are you down here?' and said something about a conspiracy against the police. The other man made some placating gestures and said something about making an arrangement with him. Maulty began shouting then, saying that the man was 'no better than a murderer' – I heard _that_ clearly enough – and bringing his gun to bear. This man moved forward and knocked the gun out of his hand, and . . . and then he drew a knife and slit Maulty's throat.

"I can still see the blood arcing in the flashlight's glare. It was . . . If I had just . . . _done_ something – yelled, thrown something – maybe he wouldn't . . .

"I – I apologize. I am recording this tape to send to you because I cannot risk entering the police station or even calling you. The man who confronted Maulty in the tunnel, the man who murdered him . . . I do not believe he is the Missing Parts Killer. This man, whoever he is, has been working with the police. Whether Maulty's accusation of conspiracy is correct or not, the fact that the man killed him after the accusation lends some credence to the possibility. I confess that I am not equipped to discern if this is true, but you are.

"The man I saw was approximately six feet two inches tall with blond hair brushed straight back from his forehead. He seemed rather solidly built. I was able to detect some facial wrinkling and jowliness even from a distance, so I would estimate that this is an older man – possibly in his fifties or sixties, but fit. His voice was deep, nearly as much as your own. I had trouble picking out an accent from what I could hear, but . . . something sounded faintly Quebecois about it. As to his outfit, he was wearing dark clothing, including boots and gloves. I noticed the gloves when he slashed . . . when he . . . ugh . . . I wish that I could give you a more detailed physical description, but that was the most I could observe. If this is a man you recognize as part of your team, please be wary of him.

"This man carried Maulty's body up a ladder and out of the tunnel, further down from where I entered. I waited for what felt like a very long time. I was going to go back the way I came, but . . . I wanted to see where he'd brought him. I thought that if I could see where his body was, I could at least call you and give you some solid proof. It was a mistake, I know. The blond man was not there when I found the body, but the police arrived shortly after I did. Perhaps I should have stayed, even knowing that my being there looked incriminating, but if Maulty's conspiracy theory was true, then had I remained, I could have been framed for murder by the very man who committed it. So I ran. And I kept running.

"I have been unable to attend my classes. Were my parents still alive, they would be greatly disappointed by this, and even more so by the circumstances. It has been my intention to contact you since that night, but this has been my first opportunity. Though I am sure that you have an assistant who handles your mail, I am hopeful that only you will be listening to this recording. The blond man from that night . . . I do not know precisely when he saw me, but I have seen him twice more now – once in the vicinity of the police station, and once near where I was staying. It is possible that he is following me. I do not believe that you will be in danger unless you confront him alone as Maulty did. However, I am sending another tape with this information to someone I know who is connected to the ICPO with instructions to move in on this man within two weeks' time, just in case. This is why I have asked for your discretion, and why I am still in hiding. For now.

"I will attempt to contact you again once I reach calmer waters. When I am able, I will specify a place where we can meet and speak in person, if possible. Officer Maulty and I may not have liked one another, but he certainly did not deserve to die. Helping to bring his murderer to justice is the least I can do. Hm. I suppose this makes me a detective after all. Thank you for listening. We will speak soon."

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

The man seemed to be pacing, though his path meandered within the small space as if he was running a maze only he could see. Another man spoke to him through the metal bars.

"How did you choose them?"

"Choose? Indeed – there was no need. Why choose when they so helpfully chose themselves? So nice to be surprised, sometimes, by gifts given, unknowing, as if God himself was pressing them into my hands."

"You're saying it was luck?"

"Serendipity is sweet, but strategy is sweeter. There was only so much time to defeat the defeater. The message was all, the precipice of a fall, the materials just ripe for the taking. Had I finished my dream, let _be_ be finale of seem, we would have known who was faking."

"Then what would your message have been?"

"Oh _no_, ho ho, you don't get your wish. If you wanted to know, you should have let me finish!"

"How was your relationship with your parents?"

The man stopped. Twisting his head toward the bars, he sneered at his unseen interrogator. "If you can ask me that, then you do not know. You are merely killing time for show."

"I know more than you realize. Your mother's death, when you were six, was ruled a suicide. Was it?"

The man turned away from the bars, hands clutching his own elbows, silent as the light glinted off his scalp. He took two steps toward his cot and remained there, facing the corner.

"I remember your father as well." The unseen man's voice was stern. "Interesting that I can't seem to find the file on his case."

The man turned, slowly, his posture unchanged, though his eyes seemed to dance. "That _is_ interesting. But why tell me? What is it that you hope I will see?"

"What I'm hoping is that you'll drop this sing-songy rhyme crap and tell me if your father taught you to kill." The unseen man sounded frustrated.

"Ha! Oh yes – shall I do your work _for_ you? Is working these cases starting to bore you? I'll tell you the truth you think you must know: about killing, I felt closer to Dad when I did so. He worked very hard, and I watched from the shadow, but he did not teach me, no no – not intentionally. Yet I learned. I chose to do what I did, and I did it so well that you might expect me to look forward to hell. What I did, I did my way, and no other. It was the only way I could make up for the loss of my brother."

"Your . . ." The unseen man's voice trailed off. "You were an only child. The only way you could have a brother would be if there was a half-brother, or . . ."

"Did the autopsy not show it? Then more's the pity. My Mommy told me when Dad went into the city. Our little secret, she said, yes yes. But _he_ never knew – or did he? Another unasked question, another –"

"Devall! Get up here – that detective is back and wants to talk to your witness!" a new voice echoed.

"Dammit, give me a minute!" the unseen man snapped.

The man began singing. "I'm so glad we had this time, together . . . just to have a laugh –"

"You're going to have to sing to yourself for awhile, _Willette_." The voice came through the bars once more, the shadow of a man advancing toward the bars, a dark slash across the floor. "But don't worry – I'll be back."

The man grinned, stretching the scar at one corner of his mouth, and stared at the bars. A loud clatter and clank rang through, echoing within the space. He rubbed a hand over the smooth skin of his head and resumed his meandering pacing.

"Delicious, this dish, whether cold or hot – nutritious or not, it does hit the spot. The strangest taste, so duly disgraced, tripping over my tongue as if springing a lock. I wonder if _he_ knows you know, what a shock. Such questions remain . . . will you refrain from feeding my pet to the hound? A lever moves nothing if it's not attached, but what goes around comes around."

The feed continued to show Willette weaving a trail in his cell, but he was no longer speaking, just idly humming to himself. L watched, as he always watched. He had been lucky that Lopov had been able to break into the police station and plant the necessary surveillance before making off with the security tapes for the day L had been brought into custody, and for two days before and after that – the man certainly seemed to have a gift for evading existing surveillance without disrupting it. _Lopov has been quite resourceful of late_, he thought; _perhaps I will consider employing him more frequently_. L was glad that he had guessed correctly regarding which cell the Toronto police would put Willette in. He knew they'd move him soon, and he doubted he'd actually see Coil on camera while he was there, but L was determined to see everything he could.

Beyond had wanted to know why – why Willette had committed the murders, and what the murderer's message would have been. It disappointed L. Beyond had spent considerable time with the man himself and yet had only managed to divine the very obvious motivation: that Willette had intended to expose Coil. _I knew why as soon as I pinpointed the murderer's name_, L thought. _The knowledge brings no comfort, no peace_. _That this man sought to eclipse his father's crimes as well as avenge the murder of his mother – and apparently his unborn brother – only adds to the long list of ways in which people can fail themselves and each other_. _Even physically compromised, Beyond should have seen this_. L fought to keep his expression neutral, conscious of strangers' eyes on him.

Jason Loud, for his part, had been cooperative enough – he'd sounded relieved, as though L had just let him out of prison. In a way, L supposed he had. The man had expected L to ask more of him, but a few codes and his willingness to stand by was all L had needed. Coil did not have anywhere near the amount of security protecting his finances that L did, and it had been almost disappointingly easy to disrupt and misdirect his funds. L had already expunged the record of Loud's crimes, minor though they were, including Coil's file on it. He had considered having the family renamed and relocated in the manner of Witness Protection Services but decided that was unnecessary. _If someone is going to target them, it would be better to know sooner rather than later_, L thought. _No matter if it turns out to be Coil or someone else, they will tip their hands to me_. L had every intention of protecting them – not just Loud himself, but his wife Julia, his daughter Gia, and his son Stephen. Whether Loud became bait for Coil's wolves or not, he would not allow him to be murdered in front of his children, teenaged or otherwise.

Gripping his laptop, L shifted in his seat, waiting for takeoff.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

"Yes, I expect so. He's a bit worse for wear, but improving steadily. It is indeed. Soon. I can send an encoded copy of our itinerary if you –" He nodded, his smile warm. "As you wish. Of course. Yes, actually – I'm afraid we've kept the man quite busy of late. You may inform Old Chance that we're impressed with his man's skill and pass along our gratitude for referring him to us, if you like."

After a moment, Watari chuckled. "Why is it that no one likes my nicknames, yet they still respond to them? Ah. Oh, _I_ see. Well, that's good to hear, Maha. Hm? Yes, I believe it will work, though I have mixed feelings about it, as you may imagine. It's – do you? Oh, I quite agree with _that_. The objection I have is to the sort of precedent it sets. Mm. I suppose. Really? I may have to mark my calendar – this is the first occasion in a very long time when the two of you have agreed on anything. Indeed. If one can be 'due' for such a thing. Oh, I sent him on ahead – I'll catch up to him once we've got the other two sorted out. Yes. I know. It . . . may be some time. Are you? That sounds lovely. Very much. I . . . Maha? I love you. I know I don't say it nearly enough . . ." He drew a long fluttery breath. "Of course, I – oh God, don't get me started."

Watari's free hand came to rest over his eyes. "Yes. Yes, we will. I know. True enough, but it makes coming home to you all the sweeter. I just wanted to tell you so." A light laugh found its way out of his mouth. "Please tell me none of the children were within earshot of that. Good. Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, old boy – they seem to be sound asleep. It's quiet as a church in here." Gazing across the room and through the door, Watari winked at the boy who had been pretending not to listen.

Aleister blushed and moved away from the door, closer to the bedside. There were times when he envied Watari and Roger's relationship and the easy rapport they shared, but there were at least as many times when he was relieved not to be in their shoes, strewn as they were across separate continents. _A long distance relationship, with one of them always potentially in danger_, Aleister thought, _it must be awful_. _I wonder if it's worth it_. He sank into the chair, fingers entwining in his lap. He knew he needed sleep, but he was unable to quiet his mind.

"Lovers' quarrel?"

Aleister jumped, then turned to glare toward the bed. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"I _was_ asleep . . . maybe I still am . . ."

"If you are, I expect I'll be turning into a unicorn shortly."

"You do everything _short_ly, henh henh . . ."

"Oh hush."

"You'd be better than a plain ol' unicorn though – you'd have a pink mane and wings, and you'd fart rainbows, and you'd have a _huge_ –"

"Stop that." Aleister shook his head, suppressing a smile. "I suppose I should be scandalized that you see the dream version of me as My Little Pornographic Pony."

"All the better to ride you, my dear." Beyond grinned, his gaze unfocused.

"Very funny." A small crease split Aleister's brow. "You really _should_ just go back to sleep. We'll have to wake you when it's time to go anyway, and the more rest you can get before then the better."

"I told you before, Ally-oop – I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Let's not rush that, shall we? It'd be a shame if you kicked it after emerging alive from the Butcher's abattoir."

"Willette. His name was Claude Willette."

"Well, I imagine it still is, however the media may be referring to him."

"Still? What day is it?" Beyond lifted his head from the pillow to peer across the room at the computer, the cords in his neck standing out.

"It's –"

"Nevermind. It doesn't matter." Beyond's head fell back onto the pillow. "I told him, you know. He didn't call me crazy, but he didn't believe me either."

They were silent for a moment – time, or its illusion, stretching out. He chose his words cautiously. "There's a shock. I have trouble believing you when you say things like that, despite your . . . demonstrations." Aleister shuddered.

"You'll see. Everything true provides its own evidence. It's just a matter of time and will."

Aleister swallowed, looking at his friend sidelong. "Why won't you tell _me_, then?"

Turning toward him, Beyond smiled almost gently. "Aside from the fact that you told me not to?"

"My saying no has never stopped you before."

"Henh henh – not true, Ally-oop, not true." Those dark, half-lidded eyes stared just above his friend's head for a moment. "You have time," Beyond finally said. "But I'm gonna find a way to get you more, when it comes down to it. I haven't tried everything yet . . ."

"Please. If our fates are as inescapable as you say, I'd rather you didn't try to subvert mine with eye of newt and the blood of a virgin for –"

"Blood of a virgin! _You've_ got a full supply . . ."

"Oh, shut it. You know what I mean. I don't need you to save me."

"And what if _I_ need to save you? What if I want to?" Beyond's grin and tone seemed malicious, but this was standard for him. He had demonstrated enough times that he meant Aleister no real harm.

"For a bloke who believes in fate, you're certainly full of what-ifs, among other things." Sighing, Aleister reached out a hand, letting the backs of his fingers rest against Beyond's forehead. "You're still quite warm – probably still feverish."

"Doesn't make me delusional."

"True. If you _were_ delusional, you'd be back to normal."

"Henh, henh, henh." Beyond's eyes slid closed for a moment, a slow blink. "We should grow old together, Ally-oop. We'd be like Roger and Watari, except without the sloppy make-outs."

Aleister raised an eyebrow. "How do you know they're sloppy? Have you been watching them?"

"Gay elder porn is more popular than you'd think." Beyond waggled his eyebrows. "But I don't need to watch them – I can just tell. Remember when that end table got broken? They never said how it happened." A yawn abruptly overtook Beyond's face.

Aleister did remember the end table from Watari and Roger's bedroom. Only a few months after arriving at the orphanage, he'd broken it by climbing on it in an attempt to reach Roger's prized entomology books. He remembered his shame and his repeated apologies to them both. Apparently, Aleister had been the only Wammy House resident to break into their room, or at least the only one known to Roger or Watari, and to his surprise, Roger hadn't made an example of him. After doing a few extra chores that week, he'd gotten back to his room to find a brand new entomology textbook sitting on his bed. Aleister had read it cover-to-cover, but the field of study did not spark his interest the way he'd hoped. Roger had been disappointed by this, though he'd never said so. _All that effort_, he thought, _just to reap disappointment and broken furniture_. _But I was younger then_. _I should know better now_. Aleister rubbed his eyes. "We went too far, you know. We should never have come here."

"No, Ally-oop. We didn't go far enough. To meet your goals, you have to be willing to do anything. You have to give yourself to your goals completely and follow your plans to the end. Commitment. Absolute. Even if our fates are set, there are things in between that can be controlled. I'd rather drown swimming upstream than float downstream like a dead leaf. Every second I'm alive, I want to _be_ alive. I want to feel and do, not just be." Beyond's eyes flashed. "I'll bend the world to my will, whatever it takes, and it will take notice." As if in counterpoint, Beyond's eyelids were slipping closed as if to contain the fire.

"Fair enough, Beeb," Aleister said softly, brushing the lank black hair from Beyond's forehead with his fingertips. "But your goals can wait a few more hours. Sleep won't stop them."

Beyond's jaw was already slack, his breathing slowing. The room felt warm, and it was handily making Aleister feel sleepy as well. _Perhaps I should try for another lie-down_, he thought.

The murmuring from the other room had stopped, so he knew Watari's phone call to Roger must have ended. They'd all be boarding their own flight soon enough, and he wondered if L's plane had taken off yet. There was something almost pleasant about the discomfort Aleister felt in thinking about L, agonizing over when he might see him again and whether they would be able to converse without acrimony. The sensation was different now. It felt as though they were moving further apart in ways he hadn't foreseen. _I hope we're never enemies_, Aleister thought. _I don't know what I'd do_.

Hands shaking, he lifted the blanket he'd pinched from another room and draped it over himself as he tucked his feet under, curling into the cushiony chair like a cat. He knew he'd regret sleeping bunched up like this, especially given how cramped the plane was liable to be, but he also knew he'd regret not staying by Beyond's side more. Aleister watched him breathing. He let the rhythm of air slipping in and out soothe him. Eyelids closing, he allowed himself to imagine that he was already back at Wammy House, with the scents of old wood, oranges, and baking meat pies. The leaves would be turned by now, a riot of color in a previously verdant landscape, contrasting the austerity of the sprawling house itself. Wammy House would not feel the same to him – it still held comfort for Aleister, but he had succeeded in escaping its warm embrace. _Home_, he thought; _my second, and the best one I've ever known_. _At least now I know I won't be afraid to leave it when the time comes, whether I go with Beyond or strike out on my own_.

Dozing, Aleister slumped against the wing of the chair, his sandy brown hair slightly mussed, looking for all the world like the child he'd once been, unmindful of the kind eyes upon him from the doorway.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: Cassette tapes may be rarely used now (does anyone still use them?), but they were still occasionally used over a decade ago. Devall is apparently sharper than Coil might have expected, and Willette is guessing at some of the wheels within wheels here. Interesting that Beyond seems to have confided certain things in Aleister.

Every time I get the time to write, my brain tries to pull me in different directions. The positive aspect of this is that I've got a bunch of notes on other potential fics that I may be working on soon-ish, so yay? I will get this fic done before starting on anything else, though – probably by the end of the month, since there are only two chapters to go.

A quick shout-out and thank you to loveinlimbo for bumping The Worst Feeling Ever over the 100-review mark – that's the first time that's ever happened for one of my fics! ^_^ And thanks to everyone for reading!


	24. Surface to Air

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 24: Surface to Air

The on-hold music was starting to become irksome. _I cannot believe it's playing "Des Mots qui Sonnent"_ L thought; _I tried to block that song out the last time I was in Canada, to no avail_. _If I am to be forced to listen to Celine Dion, they could at least play her version of "Calling You" – that would seem fitting enough, considering_ . . . Shaking his head, he forced himself to think of his persona, and his script.

"Homicide, Devall speaking."

"Mais oui, Monsieur Devall? Je m'appelle –"

"English please."

L deliberately sighed into the phone. "If you insist. My name is Roussel. I am with the ICPO. I am contacting you regarding a Monsieur Miller, though we both know that this . . . is not his name. There is information I must share with you, but this is not the time. There are connections we must make, prealablement, quelle dommage. I believe you understand me, yes?" He hoped that his Parisian accent was heavy enough.

"I have no way of confirming your identity, sir, so I cannot confirm or deny –"

"And I am not asking you to do so. Suffice to say that I know you have this man in custody, yes? This is good. I have been authorized to tell you two things: one, since the apple does not fall far from the tree, a new apple tree's roots may link with that of the elder, if indeed it takes root at all, and two, though you can keep a cat in a pen, this cat, it cannot use a pen to write you a message."

"What . . . the _hell_ is that all supposed to mean?"

"Exactement. This line, it is not secure. When I contact you again, you will understand. Au revoir, Monsieur Devall."

L hung up on the detective before he could respond, pocketing his phone and turning to wash his hands in the tiny metal sink. _In order to grow something strong_, he thought, _one must bury the seed deep enough_. He smiled. A noose was forming, most of it woven by Coil himself. With enough encouragement, Devall would grow the tree from which it, and Coil, would hang.

As he dried his hands, vibration teased his thigh. L extracted his phone and flipped it open.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to let you know that the police have found the evidence."

"Excellent news, Watari." L spoke softly, starting the water running again to cover his voice. "Did you hear anything else of import on the police band?"

"Nothing that would surprise you. They found the blood first, then the clothing and ID. They've ordered a search for the body, and as I understand it, Officer Harnett brought this directly to the attention of Detective Devall, so I would imagine he will take on the case as you anticipated."

"That is good to hear. Hopefully Devall's natural disinclination to share information unnecessarily will allow him to put these pieces together independent of Coil. And after all, this would be a local case only – a missing student, not necessarily connected to the high-profile serial murder case, though Devall's opinion on that will likely change once he receives my tape, which should be soon. I take it everything else has been implemented?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good. I should return to –"

"Please remind me: when the ICPO calls back, what should L's informal opinion of Roussel be?"

"Indifference of course, but a general respect for the work he's done, enough to warrant my recommendation of him. Perhaps an undercurrent of dislike for his arrogant attitude."

"The usual, then." Watari's tone was dry.

"Mm. Yes."

"Understood. See you in a few days."

"Indeed."

L shut his phone again and turned off the water. His movements were limited at the moment, but he had plenty of time in which to think and plan. He was actually looking forward to it.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

_And so it begins, the undertow's spin, taking us down, down, down and below_. _My message unsent, though my words would be bent by fools unwilling to know_. _No light gets in here, but I do not need it to see_. _And oh, I see_. _I see the three, so soon to be . . . one_. _But is it done?_ _No indeed_. _By trapping me now, I have already been freed_.

_Which was the puppy and which was the pawn?_ _They left me so little to truly go on_. _Perhaps it does not matter, though I wonder at the boast – if there are more in the litter, there will be more to roast_. _Not my fight anymore, no, but intriguing just the same to see how many pieces are still in the game_. _The hound may yet stumble much more off his mark, and at least I can say I provided the spark_. _But there are more games to play, and more lives to pay, and I hope – I hope! – to see much more someday_. _The desperate warnings of a dying fool are not enough to undermine my rule_. _Should they push the knife into my heart and twist it twice, should the shame of it outlive me, I cannot know, but cheek by cheek and "Like a dog!" is how, one day, I may go_. _So nice of the poisonous boy to tell me so_.

_Time, time, it turns on a dime, and to stop what I'm doing would be the greater crime_. _The hound has forgotten, his son unbegotten, but __**he**__ knew – my father, he knew – the hound's seed buried in hallowed ground, my unborn brother's identity never to be found_. _I wonder if he purged that too – defiling the file, it is the hound's style_. _Yet they could unearth her, the fallen angel, the damning proof still rotting within her_. _Such orchards as these, bursting with ardent fruit, ripe for the taking, ripe for remaking, new messages yet to be spoken_. _Delicious truth for a too-sweet tooth and a system that's long been broken_.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

The leather was marshmallow-soft. The air was dry and, at the moment, not filled with unpleasant smells or the sounds of complaining. He sighed. _Two days until my birthday_. The thought drifted in like an untethered balloon, and L smiled. _I met my goal of solving the case before turning seventeen, though a case I 'solved' but cannot claim among my successes hardly seems useful_. _However, at the rate things are progressing, Coil should be utterly under my control by Christmas_. L allowed his smile to widen. He didn't have to be "L" here, and being more emotionally demonstrative fit his current alias. He didn't have to think at his clearest either, though he still wanted to tuck his feet under him in his usual perched position. Suppressing the urge to scratch at his auburn wig, he adjusted his thick horn-rimmed glasses instead, continuing to stare out the window though blue contacts. As the sun rose to greet the nose of the plane, the clouds became limned with the colors of sherbet – orange and strawberry. L's mouth watered.

"May I get you something, young man?"

Turning, L faced the smiling flight attendant, beaming back at her. "The clouds, they look like cotton candy." He surmised that his light Parisian accent was passable enough when she nodded back at him.

"Yes, they're really pretty right now. Would you like a soda?"

"Orange soda, please."

"Ooooh . . ." The pretty brunette rummaged in her cart. "Sorry, we don't have that."

L frowned deeply and then widened his eyes. "Do you have root beer? Or cream soda?"

"Let's see . . . yes, we do!" Her face dimpled as she pulled out a pink can emblazoned with the words "Soda Mousse!" and filled a plastic tumbler with ice.

"Mmmm . . . thank you." L watched her place the cold soda can on the tray in front of him with the cup of ice and a napkin. Taking note of her position and the fact that her hands were occupied, he impulsively reached toward the soda before she could pull back, his hand brushing the point where her breasts strained against the fabric of her blouse.

"Hey!" she said, quickly moving back. "That's not appropriate."

L looked at her, his face now blank. "I miss Maman. She died. I am flying back to France to be with Papa. He has to take care of me now. I like soda. Orange soda is the best. Do you have candy?"

A realization seemed to dawn in the flight attendant's eyes, and her frown dissipated. "OK, sweetie. I'm sorry about your Mom. We don't usually carry candy, but I'll see what I can find for you. Does that sound good?"

"Yes!" L grinned, hoping to appear gleeful.

"OK then. My name's Cherie. I'll be right back." She dragged her cart back up the aisle, past a few people in dark suits and one older couple who were already asleep.

_Behaving as though I am mentally challenged in some way is actually quite liberating_, L thought, _in that it allows me to get away with doing things I might not otherwise be able to do_. _I may have to explore the possibilities of this more_. _As long as I do not pull a face muscle while making these ridiculous expressions_.

As much as L loathed public air travel, he was happy to have gotten his favorite seat – the left side window seat at the back of First Class. There was no one behind him to peer over at him or kick the seat, and he could easily view the entire front of the cabin. He was quite close to the First Class bathrooms as well, which was handy when he needed to make a quick unobserved phone call.

He'd already made a couple of those. L supposed that the background noise from the plane would have added to the distortion when he'd spoken to the head of the ICPO as L regarding his newly created alias – Watari had forwarded him that call not long after they'd spoken. He was actually getting used to using a French accent after speaking to Devall, though he intended his next contact with the detective to be computer-based, using standard ICPO procedure. In a few hours, he'd use his laptop as Roussel to conference in the ICPO and ask if Devall knew an Ezekiel Penn or an Auguste Merrivale but would refuse to answer any questions. Wondering idly how long he'd make use of the Roussel alias after having put this much effort into gaining credibility for it, he stared out the window again. _As long as I need it and no longer_, he thought.

L had initially considered exposing Coil as a fraud and a murderer to the world – he felt that the man deserved that and worse for what he had done, and had allowed – but once he'd had time to consider his options, he'd decided that it would be more to his advantage to have Coil arrested under a false name for murdering Maulty and his student alias. _This will severely limit Coil's ability to act as Coil_, L thought, _yet will still allow me to utilize the Coil name in his place_. _If he resists this, I will threaten to leak information regarding his whereabouts to certain criminals he has "caught" with evidence he falsified – such people are less likely to be as forgiving as I am_. _As I whittle away his resources and allies, I will continue to use Coil's name as one of my aliases, gradually phasing it out over time while favoring my identity as L_. _This is better than he deserves_. _It was he who started this war, not I_.

Eyes drifting to the window again, L recalled the message he'd recorded for Devall on cassette. It was a low-tech method of communication, but he'd decided that it best fit the situation he'd invented for his former alias, Ezekiel Penn. There would be no follow-up message. Devall would never hear from the student again and would be further inclined to conclude that he'd met with foul play, considering the evidence planted on the riverbank and the barely-suppressed panic L had injected into his voice while recording the message. In a day or so, the tape would arrive in the Toronto police station, and possibly up to a day after that, it would reach Devall. The nonexistent second tape would have been received by Roussel, which L would reference when communicating with Devall again as that alias when the time came. _I will eventually tell Devall, as Roussel, that I had spoken to Ezekiel Penn when I 'noticed him sneaking around'_, L thought, _and that I gave Penn the means to contact me in an emergency, making it more plausible that Penn would send Roussel a copy_. _Even if the tape does not reach Devall_, _it will still work to my advantage even if Coil finds it – any actions he takes in response will throw suspicion on him, particularly since I can send another copy of Penn's message to Devall as Roussel if need be_. _Whether Devall believes what Penn said about the man meeting Coil's description is true or not, their interactions will further entrap Coil_. _Considering how highly he values it, Coil will place his reputation above even himself, I think_.

Geoff's role was the tricky part, L knew. He was relying on the grad student to do as he asked, including delivering his message and not revealing Ezekiel Penn's "secret identity" as Roussel. L was 88% certain that Geoff would follow his instructions and pass along his message to Coil in private. Coil might be fooled into thinking that Willette had actually killed L, since Willette had seemed to believe so, but whether he did or not, Coil would still spend some time wondering and might even insist on interrogating Willette about it. If Geoff did not proceed as he'd agreed, L had a few back-up plans for how to deal with that, none of them pleasant – L hoped he didn't have to resort to any of them. Even if Geoff intended to deliberately sabotage his efforts to stop Coil, L knew he would still succeed. Sipping his cream soda, he wondered how Janine would be affected by all of this.

The thought surprised him. L had matched up Geoff and Janine precisely to get them 'out of his hair,' as the saying went. His actions had been completely practical. And yet . . . _I wonder how circumstances might have varied had I anticipated her kiss that day and given a more measured response_. L pictured Janine approaching him more assertively, as Danielle had. Then he began to imagine himself with both girls, pinning him between them, their hands and mouths upon him, heated breaths and pounding hearts . . .

"Well, this is the best I could do, hon." Cherie's voice chirped next to him, startling him out of his reverie. "It's not candy, but it's sweet."

L's body jerked, and he looked at the items she placed on the tray, which was thankfully concealing him from the waist down. "Mmm, cheesecake. And cookies. And pudding au chocolat!" Tilting his head toward her, he gave Cherie the most guileless grin he could muster. "Merci beaucoup!"

"You're welcome." She smiled down at him, but kept her distance. "If you need anything else, you just press this orange button, OK?" Cherie pointed above him, next to the reading lights and airjets.

"OK!" L turned his attention to the confections before him, waiting until he saw that the flight attendant had returned to the front of the cabin. Containing his thoughts was not working as well as he wanted, and he concluded that he would need to take action. After a moment's reflection, L grabbed the container of chocolate pudding and slid out of his seat, heading toward the restroom.

_This may not count as the 'mile high club' since I am by myself_, L thought, locking the bathroom door, _but this will certainly make the trip go more . . . smoothly_.

He set the cup on the sink and shakily undid his pants. _Why do I need this so much?_ L wondered, frowning. _It was not like this before I had sex_. _My . . . impulses were less intrusive_. _I must investigate the possibility that intercourse can trigger an irreversible hormonal cascade resulting in altered behavior and increased sexual need_ . . .

L stared down, eyes to eye with his erection, now open to the air as he perched on the toilet, his pants crumpled on top of his shoes on the floor. _Is this all I really have to show for this miserable failure of an investigation?_ _A more rampant, and thus inconvenient, sex drive?_ L swallowed, closing his eyes. He knew he was trivializing what he'd accomplished, what he'd learned, but it felt small, as if he would never know enough, never do enough. One murderer had been stopped, and soon another would be. These were good things. He was now fully in charge, giving orders rather than taking them from Watari. Despite the pain of the transition, L knew that this was a good thing too.

He expected his approach to new cases to be altered as well. _My logic seemed sound at the time_, he thought, _but I should not have delayed my announcement_. _To win, I must always strike first_. Having seen what Coil was willing to do, merely for the sake of his reputation and position, L was resolved to do whatever was necessary to solve a case _without_ committing a crime as bad or worse to ensure success – lies and theft were one matter, but to commit actual murder to prevent another murder was unacceptable. _Such an act would negate the victory and be unforgivable_.

L reopened his eyes, neck bent. He sighed. "Go away," he muttered. If not even a sober evaluation of what he'd learned from his failures on this case could affect his state of arousal, then, "I have no choice."

Reaching for the pudding cup, he peeled back the foil lid, licking it once and discarding it. Bringing the cup to eye level, L stuck a finger in it and popped it in his mouth. "Mmm . . ." He found himself salivating from more than one kind of hunger. _It's quite cold_, he thought. _This should be an interesting test of my physical reactions_.

Dipping two fingers in, he scooped out a fair amount of the silky substance, toes curling as his hand descended. He hissed in response to the chill of the pudding as he slid it over his member, feeling it pulse under his ministrations. His mind's eye spun him an image of Janine wearing a cupless black leather corset with thigh-high fishnets and stiletto boots and nothing else, her pink nipples erect, tying a naked Danielle spread-eagled to a four-poster bed. L blinked. _Perhaps Danielle was correct in regard to my having 'kinks' after all_, L thought, breathing hard. _But I am doing this . . . for research_. _To understand my own physical responses, and human sexuality in general_. _It is knowledge worth having and may prove useful in my future assessments of the behavior of others_.

Continuing to stroke himself with one hand, L slurped some of the remaining pudding out of the cup with his tongue, picturing the two girls, picturing himself with them, not caring about the mess he was making. He had more work ahead of him and a renewed determination – his plan to contain Coil was fully in motion, and he had cases waiting for him to solve, including an intriguing one in Paris. For once, he would allow himself this reprieve, this decadent indulgence, because he knew that his focus would have to be laser sharp in the days to come.

There would be no birthday party for him at Wammy House, not even in secret. L had already told Watari that he would not return to the orphanage unless absolutely necessary, which meant that he would not be there at Christmastime either. Celebrations were frivolous to him and took too much time. Though he realized that Watari would need to return there for his own purposes, L refused to bend on this issue. His independence from any base of operations would make him that much harder to pin down, and if in the unlikely event he _was_ pinned down, he could not afford to draw attention to those still at the orphanage. _Everyone's safer; everyone wins_. As to any friends, L had concluded that he had none – adopted siblings, perhaps, assistants, and enemies. Nothing more. He found it something of a relief.

As L was climaxing 30,000 feet above the Atlantic ocean, he was too far up to see the glittering surf, the chop and slosh of a sea that would gladly swallow him as it had so many others. Back on shore, Watari and Aleister were helping Beyond into clothing, preparing for their own journey overseas. A young man with dark hair was disembarking in Los Angeles, and a middle-aged Slavic man boarded his own flight to Calgary. Detective Devall was introducing Geoff Thornapple to a blue-eyed older blond man as Janine Noh sat tense and confused, waiting with Mr. and Mrs. Thornapple inside the police station. Danielle Thompson, distracted from reading once more, fingered the one last knot she couldn't get out of her favorite pink bra. Winifred Maulty, grey hair pulled back from a weathered face, was meeting willowy Antonia Fragaria for the first time, their grief the only thing they had in common. Officers Harnett and Drummond walked glumly toward their desks, relieved that one case was closed, angered that they had lost one of their own in the process, and curious about the new murder case Devall was so interested in. Claude Willette paced, caged and grinning, hoping he lived to see Coil suffer, at his hand or another's. Everyone was moving, some together, some apart, every action in tandem for a symphony of consequences not one of them could see coming.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: It may amuse you to know that I had originally planned to end this with L on the airplane (plus a final word to mirror the opening). However, I realized that I wasn't satisfied by leaving things vague with regard to Coil, since L's conflict with him was almost as important as L's confrontation with Watari. I therefore ended up adding a good bit more to the past few chapters, as well as this one and the next. Some things may still be vague by the end of this, but I feel I've set the character trajectories a bit better than I had before. For anyone who gets the reference/partial quote in Willette's rant, I will fax you a cookie. ^_^

FYI regarding the French: I'm hella-rusty on the language, but "Je m'appelle" means 'My name is', "prealablement" means 'preliminarily', and "quelle dommage" means 'what a shame'. Even when taking on a new persona, L can't seem to resist annoying people.

Thanks for reading!


	25. Fading Oscillations

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: L is almost 17, investigating a serial murder case near Toronto University. Undercover as a student prodigy, L will have to find a balance between education, investigation, and (ye gods) a social life. Rated M for language/nudity/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note.

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_"Go to the cross roads, bow down to the people, kiss the earth, for you have sinned against it too, and say aloud to the whole world, 'I am a murderer.'" He trembled, remembering that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him._

– excerpt from _Crime and Punishment_, Fyodor Dostoevsky

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**The Worst Feeling Ever**

Chapter 25: Fading Oscillations

.

GREATER TORONTO EDITION, October 31, 1996

**THE GLOBE AND MAIL**

Canada's National Newspaper

MISSING PARTS KILLER SHOT

_A bitter end to the series of murders_

by Kara Waldoon

Murderer Claude Miller was caught for the second time this week when his escape attempt was thwarted by police. Miller, alternately known as the Missing Parts Killer or the Toronto Butcher, broke away from handlers transferring him to a more secure facility, and after a short chase was shot by police. He was pronounced dead at the scene. Both officers involved are now on leave pending investigation.

The investigation led by world-renowned detective Eraldo Coil determined that Miller had committed the series of murders while employed at Toronto University as part of the maintenance crew. University officials made assurances that they had conducted background checks, but Miller had had no prior criminal record. As the Globe and Mail reported yesterday, the remains of several victims were discovered in Miller's possession, on University property. Despite the shocking revelation Monday that the Missing Parts Killer had lured several of his victims to an abandoned outbuilding associated with Toronto Hospital, no motive has yet been discovered for his crimes.

Local Detective Vincent Devall stated, "Miller was clearly the one committing the murders and leaving body parts out, but there are still aspects of the case we're tying up." He went on to say, "Now that we have more intact remains, we've begun the difficult task of identifying them and contacting relatives where possible." According to police, Miller had no known surviving relatives.

When asked, neither Devall nor the Chief of Police would comment on the murder of Toronto Police Officer David Maulty, assumed to be one of Miller's victims, though it is unclear which if any of his parts were dropped. A memorial service is planned for the fallen officer on Saturday.

Several witnesses have been cooperating with police, including Institute of Medicine graduate student Geoff Thornapple. Witnesses are being kept in what Devall called "protective custody" away from news media. Officials are under pressure to close this case soon and release information to the families of victims.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

The clicking indicated the start.

"A telephone call? Really? I'm disappointed. Almost as disappointed as I was by the message you had Thornapple deliver: 'I could not finish my alphabet, but I was never your fishing net. The puppy ran free, until he met me, and his bones can no longer pay your debt.' The implication that the Toronto Butcher had killed you was bad enough, but really, a limerick? The murderer would never have composed anything like that." The baritone with the slightly nasal inflection, a South African accent noticeably mixing with Quebecois, paused.

"Given his penchant for rhyming, I disagree." The smooth voice had a Parisian accent to it.

The other man chuckled. "Oh, he spoke in rhyme rather frequently, but he did not assemble those rhymes into any poetic forms – at least, none more complex than a couplet. I don't think he could help himself. It is an aberration of his speech, to reflect the aberration of his mind."

"I do not believe that this murderer's rhyming is unintentional. He uses it to alter the expectations of others. It is likely to be an ingrained habit, one he may have picked up during childhood, but his manner of speaking . . . it seems deliberate. This does not exempt it from being connected to his mental problems, of course. Using a simple poetic form like a limerick is well within his capabilities. Certainly an encoded message intended for you would have been important enough to him for him to give it more structure than his speech. Who knows what sort of message he might have composed for us had he gotten the chance – he might have treated us to a sonnet."

"I think what you're really saying is that I was important enough to _you_ for you to compose a poem." The baritone was teasing. "It's almost flattering."

"It was important to me that you become distracted enough by the message to misstep. The poem, it served its purpose."

There was a sound of throat-clearing. "I'm sure it seems that way to you. Did you know, I was actually looking forward to another face-to-face conversation with you."

"It should be enough that I am no longer disguising my voice. This is good, yes?" The smooth voice responded. "My face, eh, it is just another mask, une autre visage. You understand this, I know."

"What I understand is that I am in jail as a consequence of your lies."

"Lies perhaps, but not my own. You repeatedly lied to the Toronto police and the ICPO, and now you are trying to lie your way out of jail. These lies, they are not your biggest problem. Murder is another matter. I wonder, how many others have you killed while carrying on your charade, eh? How much of the blood of the Butcher's victims is on your hands alone?"

"Now you're talking nonsense." The baritone held a tone of annoyance. "Claude Miller is a serial killer, and I _caught_ him. You didn't even get close! I stopped his reign of terror, and these trumped-up charges against me are just your petulant attempt at revenge for beating you to the privilege. Even if you have the locals convinced, I have people who will get me out of this, and out of here, soon. And I can assure you, I will even the score."

"'Miller' you say, interesting . . ." The smooth voice sounded bored. "I will thank you for this, eh, threat you have made. It only strengthens my position. And these people you think you have? Let us say that the loyalty of others is somewhat compromised when they cease receiving payment. Did you think we would not find your assets and freeze them?"

There was silence for a moment. "Whatever you think you've done, I will find a way around it. I have more allies than you know."

"Hm, you may, though I suspect that you have, eh, fewer than you think. But they cannot save you from yourself in any event. Your crimes are your own burden to bear."

"I have committed no crimes! Everything I've done has been in the pursuit of justice!"

"Perhaps you intended to pursue justice, but I think you lost sight of her a long time ago. You are an imposter, hiding the truth even from yourself." The smooth voice was stern.

"_I'm_ an imposter?" There was a sharp laugh. "Everything about you is false! You hide behind technology, avoiding human interaction at all costs, and tell as many lies as you please to manipulate events to your satisfaction! You have no understanding of how cases are meant to be solved, let alone how justice must be upheld! No matter the outcome of all this, you are a _failure_, L."

There was a faint sigh. "You are delusional. I am not L. And I believe you are, what is the term, projecting your tendencies onto me. Your faceless television announcements, your deception of the police – these are all things easily attributed to someone who manipulates events to their satisfaction, as you say. There are some powerful men who are quite upset with you, Monsieur Merrivale. As you have been told, I am Agent Roussel with the ICPO. My understanding is that L refused to take on the Missing Parts Case. He was last reported to be working on a case in New Zealand –"

"Don't play games with me. I know who you are, and you know who I am. Don't let your cowardice control you, boy. You've been trying to surpass me for years now – trying and failing. Pretending to be a pawn of the ICPO won't save you."

"I suppose if I truly wanted to pump you for information, I would play along with your little fantasy, but this conversation is merely a formality. The fact remains: you are not Eraldo Coil. You are Auguste Merrivale, a well-to-do accountant dissatisfied with his life. You are not the world's greatest detective, and you are not engaged in a melodramatic battle of wits with the detective L."

"Using my own alias against me, eh? Clever. But it won't work. I will extract myself from your web of lies, L. I will win this."

"You are forgetting something, I think." There was an almost bemused tone to the Parisian-accented voice. "Regardless of what you may claim, the police are less than forgiving of those who kill their compatriots. They are unlikely to let you out of their sight. Also, even if you had not murdered this Officer Maulty or the student, I think perhaps the Toronto police would find certain elements of the Mississauga Murders Case to be very interesting. I expect handwriting analysis would come into play, not to mention re-examination of any DNA evidence left behind on handwritten notes, or, for example, the rope Sebastien Willette supposedly used to hang himself . . ."

There was another pause. "What do you think you're playing at?"

A low humming laugh could be heard. "If you were actually Coil, you would know. This is no game. Excising the file of this case from the ICPO's records was his mistake. Well, attempting to excise, since I had kept a copy for my personal reference. There are also those in the Canadian police force who remember this case quite well and do not need a file from an international organization to tell them what they know, what they saw first-hand. I will confide this much in you: we are seeking the real Eraldo Coil. You are fortunate that we saw through your deception, as it would have been embarrassing to convict you of crimes Coil himself committed. I can see why he allowed you to impersonate him – he stood to benefit were you convicted in his place. When we find Coil, we will hold him fully responsible for his actions, among them murder, extortion, and falsifying evidence."

"How amusingly ironic of you." The baritone sounded defiant but tense.

"We will also publicly expose Coil for the fraud that he is, effectively undoing his reputation as a detective and casting doubt on every case he ever worked on."

There was a long silence. "The ICPO would never do that. It would create too much work and would sow public dissent."

"Work? So you are implying that the ICPO as a whole is lazy? I think you will find that we place a much higher value on truth than on convenience. The consequences of Coil's actions are his responsibility alone. Though I suppose it is possible that he could strike a deal of some kind with us instead, yes . . . something along the lines of agreeing to retire and share all the information he has hidden or falsified, for example, in order to escape public humiliation. This is a matter we will take up with him. You would be wise to reconsider the folly of masquerading as Coil, considering the number of crimes that would be added to your own debts."

"Merde." There was a sigh. "It seems we have underestimated each other. But Coil is not the only one who is responsible – L's actions will have consequences as well."

"It is good to hear you admit that you are not Coil, but as I said earlier, L was never involved in this case. This is just as well, really. Though he might have had some useful insights, I find him . . . annoying."

There was a chuckle. "Oh really? It seems we have something in common after all. I'm sure he'll find all of this very interesting."

"Just once, I spoke to L – this was, eh, over a year ago – and I can tell you that he does not care about Coil or the ICPO, let alone people like you and me. He focuses on facts and does not care about people."

"Is that so."

"Mais oui. I am certain that L will hear about this case, and about Coil's situation, but I suspect these details will not interest him much. Coil may be a criminal, a scoundrel, but L . . . he is too cold, a machine almost."

"How sad for him. But no man is a machine, no matter how much he might will himself to be. Our feelings shape our choices – suppressing emotion in favor of pure logic impairs judgment. To be complete, to be human, and to know how to judge, one must _feel_."

"Yes, yes. _I_ feel I should thank you, but I won't."

There was another faint chuckle. "Why is that?"

"Because you have inadvertently taught me something important."

"Inadvertently, eh? You seem to think the worst of people. You really should break that habit."

"I have tried to, but people continue to disappoint me."

"Well, it is your _choice_, after all."

"This is true, and you have choices to make as well. Detective Devall, he still has the confession, ready for you to sign. Choose wisely, Monsieur Merrivale."

"Oh, I will, Monsieur Roussel. May roses bloom for you in winter."

"Au revoir."

"Adieu."

The recording ended. L considered listening to it a third time but decided that doing so was unnecessary. There didn't seem to be anything truly incriminating in the ICPO's recording of his phone conversation with Coil, which as far as they knew had been between Roussel and Merrivale, as Coil would now be known, at least in person. L, as Roussel, had already told the ICPO that the accusation he'd made about the Mississauga Murders and the charges against Coil had been a ruse to persuade Merrivale to confess. Predictably, they had believed him. It was still possible that someone would look into the Mississauga case, but it was unlikely – the ICPO was filled with people who wanted Coil kept on his pedestal. _People believe what they want_, L thought, _because the truth is too ugly_.

L wondered if Coil had arranged for Willette to die while escaping custody after the conversation he'd just listened to had taken place or if he had planned for that to happen all along. It was possible that Coil hadn't set those events in motion at all, but L considered the likelihood of that rather low. _7%_, he thought. _He may have done no more than given Willette a key for his cuffs, knowing what sequence of events would most likely occur as a result_. _Ugliness indeed_.

Walking to a window of his suite, L peeled aside the curtains he'd duct-taped shut to gaze out at the Eiffel Tower, lit up against the night sky, a beacon pointing accusingly at the darkened heavens. He knew he didn't need to be in Paris to solve his newest case, since he intended to avoid direct interaction with suspects and police, but he liked being here, due in no small part to the availability of excellent pastries. He was surprised that Deneuve had not taken an interest in the case for which he was present, since it centered around her home city, but he supposed that she might think it beneath her. As much as he loved competition, he was secretly relieved. A series of clever cons and rumored extortions resulting in the amassing of several million francs by a mysterious and charismatic suspect over the past few weeks was a case with less moral heft to it than a series of murders, but L didn't mind. The circumstances were challenging enough – more so than the five other cases vying for his attention, which he would no doubt also solve – and the differences between the two cases already felt like a refreshing counterpoint.

In a few days, Watari would be joining him in Paris to assist. L hoped to have this case, and the others, all solved by Christmas, when Watari would leave his side once more. He wondered how things would be between them when the man arrived, but brushed his doubts aside. _He knows now that he was wrong about me_, L thought; _the facts are clear_. _Certainly he will value catching criminals above maligning me_. _Our work will continue as it has done, because it must_. He knew he wouldn't miss the distractions that Christmas at Wammy House tended to include, but he already ached at the thought of missing out on all the cakes, cookies, and holiday pudding. _I will have to compensate somehow_, he thought.

Objectively, it could be argued that his direct involvement had been unnecessary, his time in Toronto a waste, but the experience had provided him with valuable insight. Losing the trust – or, in fact, discovering that he had never truly had the trust – of his mentor had been one of the worst feelings he'd ever had. When his parents had died, he had been much younger and losing them had made him numb, the pain only rounding on him later, after making perhaps the worst of his mistakes. Every experience had shaped him, though he did not feel whittled down as Aleister had suggested. He felt stronger. _Those things I have failed at_, he thought, _will be additional motivation for me not to fail again_. Gaining some sexual experience had come as some surprise and had arguably resulted in one of the best feelings he'd ever had. _So strange_, L thought, _to reach such extremes in so short a time_. _It makes it harder to quantify my accomplishments logically when feelings are what stand out_. _And if Coil believes that feeling is necessary for judgment, then that is all the justification I need to suppress my emotions_. _Perhaps I did have something to prove by investigating in person_. _Perhaps I indulged myself too much by visiting the city I lived in when I was two_. L dug his toes into the lush cream-colored carpet. _My parents preferred Belgium anyway_.

L glanced back into the room at a package that had been delivered that afternoon. It sat on the glass coffee table on top of a Toronto newspaper next to an empty teacup, a large square box wrapped in brown paper. He knew what its contents would be: fresh-baked vanilla cake with strawberries and whipped buttercream icing, the confection covered in plastic and double-boxed with dry ice all around. Condensation continued to form on the glass of the table, moisture darkening one corner of the box. It was possible that there would also be a card, with a note chiding him for staying away.

_If I had a single wish_, L thought, _it would be to surpass both Coil and Deneuve by the time I am 20_. _Perhaps I can do it sooner, but I have much work ahead of me if I am to eclipse their achievements as detectives_. _After all, mere wishing will not make it so_.

"Happy birthday to me," L murmured, deciding to open the package at last, before the clock struck midnight to declare his day, and his year, spent.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

.

GREATER TORONTO EDITION, November 1, 1996

**THE GLOBE AND MAIL**

Canada's National Newspaper

COP-KILLER MURDERED STUDENT

_Evidence of second murder implicates suspect_

by Kara Waldoon

Further evidence has come to light in the case of murder victim Officer David Maulty. Suspect Auguste Merrivale, already in custody, is now accused of killing a second person, Toronto University student Ezekiel Penn. According to police, Penn may have witnessed the murder of the police officer. Though his body has not yet been found, police recovered the murder weapon and other items from the scene on the bank of the Don River.

"There were clear signs of a struggle," Detective Vincent Devall said, "and we have the fingerprints of both the victim and the murderer, as well as clothing and blood evidence, at the scene." Devall indicated that the evidence was still being processed and said "we are confident that we have enough proof to convict this dangerous criminal."

Stranger are the reports that suspect Merrivale had been in contact with the police regarding to the Missing Parts Case, which was concluded just days ago. This reporter asked several contacts within the Toronto Police Department for more information, but no one would confirm or deny that this man had impersonated a detective, and no indication was given as to whether Merrivale may have impeded that investigation.

The loss of student Ezekiel Penn was felt by fellow students. "I can't believe he's gone," said undergraduate Janine Noh. "He was a good friend. Why would anyone do this?" Undergraduate Danielle Thompson said, "I know what the police said, but I'm not going to believe he's dead unless they find a body." Guillaume Germain said of fellow grad student Penn, "He was really odd but a nice guy, and smart as hell. He could've taught our professors a few things!"

Police have thus far been unable to contact next of kin for Penn. Fellow grad student and Missing Parts Case witness Geoff Thornapple indicated to police that Penn was an orphan, though a few other students mentioned meeting Penn's adoptive brother and seeing a man who appeared to be his grandfather. Relatives of Ezekiel Penn are asked to contact Detective Devall of the Toronto Police.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Back in the House, the air felt cool and smelled of oranges and musty wood. Everything was falling into place as though nothing had been removed or changed. He felt cloth slip over limbs that he willed to be numb. He preferred it when Watari helped him – the man's indifference was a balm, where the pity in Aleister's eyes needled him. He did not need needling. Strength was returning to him, though he continued to pretend it was not. His intentions had not changed, whatever else may have. _Oh, what did you get up to when I was not watching you, my little Ally-oop?_ _What emotional excesses did you allow to distract you?_ _What sweet poison did you fail to notice slithering in your veins?_

Beyond stared out the window, ignoring the steady patter of attempted conversation spilling from Aleister's lips. A few blushing leaves still clung to branches outside, but they would give up and let go soon. He would not. _What happens must happen, and I know what to do_. _I can be patient, but I need to work quickly to prove it to you, that I am right and he is wrong_. _Everything true provides its own evidence – unless you bury it deep enough_. Beyond swallowed the smile that threatened to bloom on his face. _Knowing who and when and how is not enough when I need to know __**why**_. _The why is always the key, and he's keeping it from us, as if we're unworthy_. _I will do whatever it takes to steal it back from him_.

Inevitable events and the forward march of time were not his enemies. Only one could hold that honor, for the audacity of being first. He could still win, and he would – he knew it. The win would present itself along a new path to the same destiny, the one he felt himself marching toward, getting just close enough to glimpse the edge of it. Beyond would make L _want_ to know why, and then rob him of that knowledge, rob him of victory, rob him, at last, of the right to be L.

#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#~~~~~~~~~~#

Author's Note: And here we are at the end. I finally decided to specify a year, so I went with the manga timeline, but you can handwave and imagine I've kept it in line with the anime instead if you prefer (which would make it 1999 rather than 1996, I think). Coil going to prison will certainly limit him, but the Detective Wars haven't happened yet, so he's not completely out of the picture.

In this story, I kept myself strictly limited with PoV (3rd person limited, mostly L, some A, and a bit o' B at beginning and end), though I suppose maybe using newspaper articles is cheating a bit. ^_^ At some point I will be putting some things up on AO3, including the uncut version of this story. I could probably write a follow-up fic based on "When I was 17, I did strange things too" but I probably won't. There are a few other projects calling for my attention, only some of which are fanfic-related. We'll see what happens, but then I always say that.

A shout-out and big thanks to everyone who has reviewed my story as I've been posting it: ImperialJedi, Blind Justice, Shinigami M, Sashocirrione, Crazymusician22, amainage, music controls me, Colwyn, aflaskj, Rainbow27Stardust, C. Holywell-Black, , Lamanta, Miss Bright, scrambled-eggs-at-midnight, reverse-paradox, swim4life4ever, aiushtha, Princess Senshi, cwilder, TheSlyCatMonster, Fixated-Fixings, cheyjeevas, loveinlimbo, gnyork, Pandora Darkspell, Sylvertongue, urpleprose, and haipa-chan. Hearing feedback from you guys always made my day, and I really appreciated it.

Hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Thanksgiving to all you US folk, and thank you to everyone for reading!


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